


Chaos On All Fronts

by chloemacd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Battle of the Blackwater, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, War of the Five Kings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2019-09-30 17:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 87,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17228234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chloemacd/pseuds/chloemacd
Summary: Finishing the work Jon Arryn was about to expose before his death, Ned Stark and Stannis Baratheon uncover damaging secrets about the Royal children - that they aren't even Baratheon's, but Lannister's of Casterly Rock. The d finds himself teaming up with stubborn Stannis and proud Renly in order to take the Lannister's down, but in order to do that, marriages must be made. Join the Stark children as their marriages wound up with them being scattered all over the realm, from sunny Dorne to the bleak Wall, as chaos ensues and other dangers are looming and guaranteed.Please note that I do not own any of the GoT/ASOIAF characters bar the addition of my own made-up character Lyanna Stark (twin sister of Robb). Includes both show and book characters. Spoilers for both Show and Books. Mostly non-canon, and character deaths included. Some smut in later chapters, including the mention of rape, torture, murder, abuse and harassment.





	1. Eddard

**Author's Note:**

> Robb Stark has a twin sister called Lyanna Stark, named after Ned's sister.

Eddard Stark stood in the middle of the room as he saw his wife, Lady Catelyn, fretting. "Ned, we are plotting against the crown by doing this!"  
Ned ran a stressed hand through his hair, which was tied back behind his head. He was simply terrified of what the outcome would be of this plan, but he hoped that it would play out. _Renly, Stannis, I bloody hope you two were right about this.._ He thought.

"Cat, listen to me." Ned said gently. "Two of my closest friends have died within weeks apart. That reprobate of a boy sits the Iron Throne, for how long I do not know. Now I'm putting all my hope into two squabbling brothers to overthrow their own nephew and possibly have yet another rebellion up in arms. This wasn't a bloody easy decision, my lady, but it's what's best for us. It's what's best for our children, for the realm."  
"And you're proposing our children to other Lord's children from right below my nose." Ned could tell that Catelyn was as stressed as he was, and almost as distraught, but deep down he knew that she was seeing the sense in this.  
"Do you really think that we were as pleased to have Sansa betrothed to Joffrey as she was? That boy is a monster, Cat, a ferocious and ruthless beast in human skin. He takes pleasure in humiliating people. Quentyn Martell, from what I hear, is a nice boy. His father is a gentle old stoat, and the Dornish are good people, loyal."  
"I imagine you killed a few Dornishmen on the banks of the Trident." Cat replied, bluntly and sharply.  
"I may have, I do not seem to recall." Ned then changed the subject back. "Look, if worse comes to worse, we will have a few battles on our hands. But we will win. Tywin Lannister can bring all the strength of the westerlands but we will defeat him."  
"I do not imagine Myrcella and Tommen will like being stolen in the middle of the night." Cat said.  
"I'm not stealing them, Cat!" Ned snapped, soon regretting it. "Sorry, my lady. But it's true. I refuse to drag frightened children from their beds. Myrcella being betrothed to Bran is the best thing we can hope for, and the boy Tommen to our Arya even better. They're not like that creature of a brother that they have, they're very sweet."

  
It took another ten minutes of convincing before Cat finally agreed, and then she left the room. For the meantime, whilst Stannis and Renly played out the plan, Ned and his family were unknowingly staying with the Rykker's of Duskendale for the time being. Lord Renfred had welcomed them with open arms, the slight fool of a man not even knowing that they were part of a conspiracy to overthrow the government. The Dun Fort, as it was called, was a beautiful castle that overlooked the busy port in which Duskendale's economy thrived. True, the castle wasn't as big as Winterfell, but it was spacious and had every comfort under the sun that anyone could have wished for. Ned and Cat found their way to the dining hall quite quickly, and seated themselves down.

  
Lord Renfred arrived soon after, along with his wife and their children. Sansa had befriended his eldest daughter, Sybelle, almost upon first encounter. He thought they had become inseparable ever since. Yesterday he seen them up on the battlements, looking out down over the town and gushing over the glorious view. It made him happy to see his daughter smiling again, considering how badly Joffrey had treated her. Arya, however, strangely never even scarcely gave them a look.

  
Tonight, the first course was due to be a platter of carefully smoked salmon and sardines, along with a few other fish Ned couldn't remember what were called. They were to be served with butter, salt, bread and ale. He couldn't wait, he hadn't had fish properly ever since the feast at Winterfell, which was held to welcome the royal family. The table soon erupted in to discussion, with Catelyn and Lady Rykker talking amongst themselves, whilst Ned and Renfred talked. However, Ned soon began to notice that Sansa and Arya both were looking rather glum. Sansa was at least talking with Sybelle Rykker, but was only answering in short sentences.

  
"Girls, what's the matter?" Ned whispered to them. He could've sworn he seen their eyes water. Thankfully, to break the tension, the first course came out, and most seemed to be in great spirits. He seen Sansa and Arya both thank the servers and give them a smile. The fish was simply delightful. Renfred started to go off in detail about how the fish were caught especially from the port below, fresh from it, and how the fish in Duskendale seemed to taste miles better from fish anywhere else. After only a few minutes, though, he seen his daughters both start to fiddle with their food, using their daggers and forks to poke it around the thin plate.

  
Ned gave Catelyn a look, and she understood. "Girls, come on, eat up, both of you have barely ate a thing!" She murmured to her daughters.  
Everyone at the table just about had a heart attack when out of nowhere, Sansa leapt up from her seat, pushing the chair back. "I've only just been taken away from Joffrey and now I'm to be married AGAIN?!" She wailed.  
Ned was horrified. "Sansa, dear, please, listen to m-"  
"-No father, I won't! I don't want to marry Quentyn Martell, I don't want to go to Dorne, I don't want a husband!" Sansa screamed. Cat looked like she was being publicly humiliated. "Sansa, listen to yourself! How dare you behave like this in front of our hosts!"  
Lady Rykker looked understanding. "Do not fret, we take no offence."  
Arya then started wailing. "I don't want to marry Tommen! He's fat and clumsy and looks like a girl!"  
"Arya Stark, that is your prince you are talking about!" Cat seethed. Ned watched dumbfounded as Sansa and Arya fled from the room, with tears running down their faces and their hands hiding their shame. Sybelle Rykker stood up and went after them to try and comfort them.  
"My lord, my lady, I am so sorry-"  
"-Don't worry, Ned, lady Catelyn, we truly take no offence." Lord Renfred assured. Ned could have kissed the man in that moment.


	2. Theon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robb's twin Lyanna will be coming in later chapters. Enjoy, and thanks for the Kudos's coming in!

It was just a little past midday when Ser Rodric Cassel was knocking on Theon's chamber door, notifying him that he was to meet in the Lord's solar as soon as possible. Theon did as he was told, and got dressed in to a black doublet that had a light brown cloak fastened over the top of it and shoved on the first clean pair of breeches that he found, which were cream-coloured ones. Okay, they didn't really match with the colour scheme of his top half, but he was too curious to care.

  
Theon made his way from his chamber to the solar, which was on the other side of the castle practically. It wasn't that far of a walk, but considering that he bumped in to many castle servants, maids and servers on his way seemed to make it a long journey.  
He walked in to the solar, and gathered at the table in the centre of the room was Maester Luwin, Ser Rodric, and Robb. Grey Wind was also there, the young direwolf raising his head when he heard the large hard oak door creak open.

  
Robb smiled as Theon approached and took a seat next to him. Grey Wind went back to sleeping. "What's this meeting about?" Theon asked.  
"You'll see." Robb's smile seemed to falter for a bit, but then it gathered again, in a smirk-kind of way.  
Theon didn't even have time to frown at Robb's expression before the oak door swung open again, but this time rather loudly and clumsily. In entered Hodor, the simply enormous stable boy who was good friends with Bran. Hodor never said anything, the only word he knew was his own name - Hodor. He wasn't exactly a halfwit, per say, - he was quite intelligent. He understood what people said, and often said his name in different expressions, usually ones which would match the situation. Some in the castle said that he was the great-great-grandson of Old Nan.

  
On Hodor's back, was Bran Stark himself. He often liked to clamber on to the stable boy's back and perch on him as if Hodor was a giant horse. Bran slid down from Hodor, stumbling a bit on landing, and made his way to sit directly across from Robb. Summer, his direwolf, was also with him, and went to sit with Grey Wind.  
Then the youngest, Rickon Stark, came sprinting in, with his enormous black beast of a direwolf, Shaggydog, at his side. Shaggy was as black as the night,many as ferocious and as wild as his master. Rickon sat next to Bran, and then Maester Luwin started the meeting.  
"My lords, you will all probably be wondering why you've been gathered here. Well, it turns out that we've had ravens." The Maester explained, and handed Robb a rolled up scroll.  
Robb took it in to his hands, and unrolled it. Theon had his head practically nestled on top of Robb's shoulder, straining to see, but he knew that Robb wouldn't mind.

" _Robb,_  
 _I hope you are all well back at Winterfell. The south is in a complex situation at the moment, one which we are keeping secret, but you have to know of this._  
 _Our King, Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, is dead. He died from sustaining wounds from a boar hunt. However, your father, with the help of Stannis Baratheon, has made a shocking discovery._  
 _Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen Baratheon are not the children of King Robert and Queen Cersei, but are in fact products of incest, and are the children of Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer._  
 _Your father and I have allied with Stannis and Renly Baratheon alike, but in order to broker this agreement, marriages must be made._  
 _Robb, you shall be marrying Lady Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden._  
 _Bran shall be marrying Princess Myrcella, and Arya will therefore marry Tommen._  
 _Rickon will be betrothed to Stannis's daughter, Princess Shireen. Sansa is to marry Quentyn Martell, the eldest son of Prince Doran Martell._  
 _And Theon, tell him that he will be betrothed to Princess Arianne Martell. He'll like her, she's said to be a beauty._  
 _I hope you will all agree with this, as together, we will all rise up against the Lannister's, and destroy them!_  
 _Also, Stannis and Renly are currently playing out a plan, to take Joffrey Baratheon in to custody, and have his mother and father imprisoned. Me, your father, and your sisters are currently staying with the Rykker's of Duskendale whilst this is played out, so that we are safe if the plan backfires. They don't even suspect us of a thing! Your sisters didn't exactly act well when we told them of their marriages, though._  
 _Love,_  
 _Catelyn Stark."_

Theon read it over in his head, his heart both sinking and fluttering. He was to be married, to a Dornish princess? He thought Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard were being far too generous.  
Robb read it aloud to the table, and Theon could sense his brothers anger. _Robb, why are you angry?_ Even in the North, men and women, noble and common folk alike, spoke highly about Lady Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden. They mostly spoke about her beauty, saying that she was the prettiest thing to grace the world, a goddess and an angel alike come from the heavens.  
"Bran, Rickon, how do you feel?" Theon asked the two young Stark boys, trying to ease the situation.  
Both brothers were quiet for a minute. "I suppose we don't really have a choice." Bran shrugged his shoulders.  
"Is Princess Shireen pretty?" Rickon asked.  
"Nobody knows, Rickon. She has scars on half of her face, though, as she caught greyscale when she was a babe. You will treat her kindly, and love her and respect her." Theon grinned, reaching over to pinch the young boys cheek. He let out a laugh, and nodded his head.  
Robb, though, was still silent, and angry. "Your parents have bagged you a southern beauty, come on Robb, smile!"  
Theon was taken aback when Robb pushed his chair back, loudly, and stormed out the room in a fury, Grey Wind getting up and leaving with him. The whole room shared a look.  
"Let's just say that he's agreed to it." Maester Luwin shrugged. Theon smiled, and then they were dismissed.


	3. Quentyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a chapter on our favourite dragon-taming, fire-catching Dornish prince, Quent.

In the hot Dornish sun, you'd think that one would be basking in it, dipping their toes in a nice cold pool whilst relaxing in the heat. Quentyn Martell was doing none of that. Together with Cletus Yronwood, they both drilled together, training with both sword and spear, bow and arrow, axe and throwing knife. By the end of the training session, they were both dripping in sweat. Quentyn cursed himself slightly for wearing such thick layers. _Plate and mail, what was I thinking?_

  
Lord Anders had been observing them drilling at times throughout the lesson, Quentyn had noticed. His second father always had a watchful eye, eyes which never gave anything away. You could never tell if he was approving of something or in disagreement. When he was watching Quent and Cletus drill, he only stayed a few minutes before walking away, but he did nod in approval when Quentyn managed to disarm Cletus.

  
That's what Quentyn often ended up doing, - disarming Cletus, proving to be a better warrior. However, in recent days, Quentyn often found himself moving backwards - defending - whilst Cletus layed the blows, moving forward. He got better with every day that they trained, but Cletus could never hope to be better with a sword than him.  
Quentyn Nymeros Martell had just finished drying himself off after his bath when a knock came at his door. When he had got himself clothed and ready, he opened the door, and found Gwyneth Yronwood.

  
Only, she was looking displeased.  
He loved Gwyneth, so much that he wanted to marry her and have children by her. But he knew that his princely father Doran would never approve of the match.  
"You know why I'm here." Gwyneth snapped.  
Quent was taken aback. "Gwyn, what in the world is wr-"  
"You said you loved me. I love you, and yet I've been informed by my lord father that you're to be married, to some other girl, more beautiful and more highborn than me. You said that one day you would marry me, Quentyn, why?!"  
What?! Quentyn had to pinch himself.  
"My lady, I'm to be married? Is this some kind of sick jape? I didn't even know such things-"  
"Liar!"  
"Gwyneth, listen to m-"  
"NO. I'm done with listening, I'm done with men, I'm done with you. Go and enjoy years of enjoyment with your northern girl, she'll make you happy. She'll give you children. You'll get nothing from me ever again." Gwyneth Yronwood said, before stomping off, tears streaming and glistening down her cheeks.

  
Quentyn marched through the castle and came unto Lord Anders' chamber. He entered, and there sat his second-father and the maester.  
"Gwyneth came to me crying, my Lord, she says I'm to be married?"  
"Cletus never told you?"  
"No? Why does he know but not me?"  
"Let's just say, it's a good and important match. Your father accepted it for you, my prince, so I guess it left me no choice but to accept it as well. Come in, sit." Lord Anders beckoned him closer.  
_My father seems to be planning my whole life for me,_ Quentyn thought. _And it seems to be a dreadful life._  
Quentyn seated himself across from Anders and the maester. He gave them a quizzical look before breaking open the seal of the letter. His eyes skimmed over it, and then he saw.  
_Sansa Stark is to be my wife._  
Quentyn had no answer for that.


	4. Cersei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please not that these chapters are not in chronological order unless specifically stated.

She had just finished snarling at her useless bedmaid Senelle when a knock was heard at her chamber door. Senelle went to the door and opened the peephole. "It's Lord Baelish, Your Grace,"  
Considering she fact she was practically naked, as her dress hadn't been fastened yet, she told her handmaiden to ask him what he wanted.  
Senelle opened the door, however she didn't open wide enough so that Cersei was in view, which the Queen was grateful for, at least. She couldn't really hear Petyr Baelish, nor see him, but the conversation ended quickly.

  
"He says that as soon as you're dressed you're to report to the small counsel chamber, as Lord Varys has caught wind of something suspicious, apparently." Senelle said.  
Cersei nodded, and as soon as Senelle was done dressing her, she left without another word.  
She entered the counsel chamber, and sat waiting for her was Baelish, Varys, Stannis, Renly, and Barristan. She could sense something was amiss. _Where is the Grand Maester?! Where is that dreaded Lord Stark?_

  
"My lady, I don't believe you're on the small counsel." Stannis Baratheon said, not unkindly. Her brother by-law was always so down in the dumps.  
"I invited her here, my Lord, as its to do with Vary's tidings." Baelish said, as Barristan got up out of his chair and pulled her chair out for her.  
"Where is Pycelle?" Cersei demanded. "And where is the Hand of The King? Answer me, _where is Eddard Stark?_!"  
"Lord Stark had urgent business with Lord Rosby, Your Grace, but he'll be back shortly." Renly answered, although she sensed a lie.  
"And how is it that his daughters chambers are empty?!" She glared.  
"Well, since Lady Sansa is no longer betrothed to your son, I'd say she was free to get away and explore the Crownlands as she pleased." Varys offered.  
"Breaking the engagement was a folly, Lord Stark caught Joffrey in a bad mood, was all. He didn't mean to take it out on the Stark girl." She almost seethed.  
"Your son seems to always be in bad moods, then. I don't know what a twelve year old girl could possibly do to anger Joffrey so much that he publicly humiliated her, and almost beat her.. But then again, the boys been spoiled and gushed over all his life by his mother, so I guess that's where the sense of entitlement comes from." Renly said, and at that moment, Cersei sensed that something was going on.  
"You _dare_ talk about your own nephew and prince like that, Lord Renly?!" She snapped. Varys raised a hand.  
"Before we bite each other's heads off, let me say what I've discovered." The bald man paused before continuing. "One of my little birds is placed on Lady Lyanna, which as we all know is one of the warships in the Royal fleet. Intel was able to be gathered regarding a northern ship, Torrhen Stark, which had apparently been dispatched via White Harbour and docked last night in Duskendale. The child was sure that a girl with auburn hair and about seven others got on board it, although it was dark so it was hard to tell, and they were all wearing hoods."

  
Cersei's head was spinning. Why would a northern ship dock in Duskendale and pick up some girls who clearly didn't want to be seen?  
Then it dawned on her.  
The girl with auburn hair had to be Sansa Stark.

  
Her body went cold.  
"Where is this ship going, did you find that out?!" She raised her voice, panicking, yet nobody else seemed the least bothered.  
"Dorne." Answered Varys. Then the doors opened.  
Men dressed in Baratheon armour entered the room, and one of them spoke to Stannis. "It has been done, my lords."  
"What is going on?!" She shouted. The Baratheon sigils on the soldiers had a dark green background, which could only mean one thing.  
_They were Renly's men._  
"Good." Answered the youngest Baratheon. "And did anybody see you? The Kingsguard, Gold cloaks?"  
"No, my Lord." The same soldier replied. Renly then left the room, smirking at her.  
"Cersei Lannister, you are under arrest on charges of incest with your brother Ser Jaime Lannister and suspected regicide of Jon Arryn. Your children have been taken into custody and will stay under Renly's protection, bar Joffrey. You have been exposed." Stannis announced.

  
_No, no no, this can't be._ "WHERE ARE MY CHILDREN?! WHERE IS JOFFREY, I DEMAND TO SEE HIM. _KINGSGUARD!_ " She shouted for anyone, even though she was now restrained on both sides. "Barristan, save me from this! I am Queen Regent!"  
However, the old man didn't budge. _I'll have you killed for this one day,_ she thought. _Part of his vows is to protect me, but there he sits._

  
She kept on screaming as she was led out of the chamber and practically dragged throughout the castle. The Red Keep was in chaos, she could see men everywhere, hear shouting. Jalabhar Xho ran out into the yard and literally vaulted on to the first horse he seen, and galloped away before anyone could stop him. She shouted for him, but it was no use.

  
Then she seen Joffrey being dragged out.  
"UNHAND ME, YOU SCUM! _I AM YOUR KING!!"_ His voice boomed. Servants all stopped to stare.  
She thought the sight of Ser Preston Greenfield would be their saving grace, but he was one man against at least twenty Baratheon soldiers. The brave but foolish man ran from the Red Keep and sprinted towards her son, his sword drawn. He slayed one soldier, and shouted that he would save His Grace, but didn't get very far as a spear butt drove him to the ground before the head of it was shoved through his throat, and he died.

  
_At least he tried to protect Joffrey, and died for him._ She thought. _The man had more honour than any of the others._  
"MOTHER! WHAT ARE THEY DOING?! _HOW DARE YOU DRAG MY MOTHER LIKE THAT!!"_ Cersei didn't realise that she was now crying. Her son sounded so scared, it shattered her. _He's only twelve,_ she thought despairingly, _he's a child, my boy, my son, please don't harm him._

  
Her thoughts turned to Myrcella, and Tommen. She couldn't bear the thought of what was happening to them. What if they were getting harmed?  
She screamed some more.  
After half an hour, she was virtually shoved in Maegor's Holdfast, in a dark gloomy cell. Joffrey was imprisoned as well, but he was on the floor above her. She could still hear him though.  
_Jaime, Father... Save us all._ Was her last thought, before she dropped to the floor and fainted.


	5. Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place just after Arya and Sansa stormed out in the first Ned chapter :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's our sweet little Arya highlighting the unfairness of highborn lyf

She stomped back to her chamber in the Dun Fort and once she got in, reeked havoc. She grabbed Needle, which was at the bottom of her trunk, and started slashing. She had half a mind to swipe at the tapestries on her wall, some which contained and depicted events like the Darklyn Defiance and that time when Aerys Targaryen II was captured and held for ransom by the Hollards, but she didn't want to, as the Rykker's didn't deserve that. It wasn't their fault that she'd been betrothed to Tommen Baratheon, after all.

  
She decided just to take her anger out by practising her Water Dancer skills. But that just reminded her of Syrio Forel, who had been teaching her the Braavosi ways of fighting, before she and Sansa were whisked away by their father in the dark of night, even though she wasn't even told.

  
She really hated her life at that moment. Why did she have to be highborn?! Why did she have to marry? She had her older siblings, who were all being betrothed to other lords and Prince's, but she was the fourth born, so why was it expected of her to marry and have babies? It was weird, as nobody had mentioned who Lyanna, her eldest sister, was marrying, as surely she'd be expected to the most? Lyanna and Robb were both of an age, so it was only normal that the most pressure would be on them? Any children that they had would come before Arya and even Sansa in the line of succession, so why was it that Arya, young Bran and even baby Rickon were being betrothed?

  
There was a knock at her chamber door, and still bubbling with anger, she stomped to the door, flung it open, and pointed Needle at whoever it was. It was probably her handmaiden the Rykker's had appointed her, or Sansa, but all she wanted was to be left alone.  
"Go away!" She screamed, but instantly regretted it as the person at her door was her father.  
"Arya, put that bloody sword away and let me in." Eddard Stark demanded as he managed to catch the door, which Arya would of ended up slamming if she hadn't have checked who it was.  
She growled, but obeyed. She plonked herself down on her bed and her father sat down beside her.  
"I understand why you're upset, love-"  
"-It's not fair!" Arya cried, "Why do I have to marry Tommen?! You said that he and his siblings weren't Baratheon's, so why is it that I have to marry him is he's a Lannister?!"  
Her father raised a hand, to quieten her, before getting up to bar her door. He lowered his voice. "So that he and his sister can be used politically against their own family."  
"But why do I have to marry him?! Why can't we just foster him or something, keep him as a hostage like Theon?! Make him Robb's squire or something, I don't care, I don't want to marry him!"

  
Her father signed audibly. She felt bad, as he was under enough pressure as it was, but she had to make her feelings known. However, when she said the bit about Tommen being fostered, she seen her father consider it, just for a slight moment.  
"If I tell you the real reason why you and your siblings are being betrothed to other lords children, do you promise not to tell anyone, and promise not to even mention it ever again?" Her father asked.  
She nodded.

  
"We've had to flee King's Landing because Lord Stannis and Renly Baratheon are carrying out a plan to arrest Queen Cersei and her son, Joffrey. They would have also arrested Ser Jaime Lannister as well, and The Imp, but the day after King Robert died, they fled. I have allied with them, but in order to secure the alliance, I've had to promise you all to others." Ned Stark explained in a voice barely above a whisper, and Arya approved. She hoped that Stannis and Renly would kill Joffrey and his bitch mother, for Mycah's sake, and Lady and Nymeria's as well. She missed her direwolf. She and Jory had to throw rocks in order for her to go away. It made Arya sad, as surely the direwolf would hate her now?

  
"I won't tell anyone, father. I won't even discuss it with mother or Sansa, if it please." She replied. Her father tousled her hair, the same way Jon did before she left. She missed Jon. He had left to join the Night's Watch the same day she, Lyanna, Sansa and father had journeyed south. Because of this, he couldn't marry. She envied him.

  
Her father agreed with her last statement, and after he tousled her hair, said that she and Sansa ought to apologise to Lord and Lady Rykker tomorrow at breakfast, to which she agreed. _I hope he considers breaking the engagement_ , Arya thought desperately. She supposed that Tommen was a lot nicer than his stupid older brother, not cruel at all, but still, marriage just wasn't for her. She turned her thoughts to the gods, and looked up at her canopy in prayer, _You old gods, if you're listening, get me out of this marriage please._ She thought, _and please let Bran have his legs again._


	6. Lyanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just for information purposes in case people get confused as to how Lyanna got to Riverrun so quickly, she left the morning after the Tourney of the Hand at the request of her father, who by then suspected that the Lannister's were up to something, so sent her back to the safety of Winterfell in case something bad escalated in to something dire within a few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we can see, Lyanna and Arya are very much like their aunt :)

 

She arrived at Riverrun with her escort at a little past midnight. The castle was still well-lit despite the late hour, and they met with her uncles own escort party less than a mile away from the great fortress.

  
It was her uncle's own captain of guard Robin Ryger who welcomed her, "My lady, your uncle simply cannot wait to see you. You look well."  
She blushed slightly. "Thank you, my Lord, I cannot wait to see him too, and my great-uncle, the Blackfish. Is he also at Riverrun?"  
"Your great-uncle is in service to your aunt Lady Lysa, my lady, and sadly his duties in the Vale mean that he cannot be here. He wishes you well though." Ryger replied. She nodded, but was disappointed. She had wanted to see Ser Brynden Tully, who even though she had never met, was renowned across the realm.

  
They approached the castle at a slow canter, but as they rode through the gates, slowed their mounts down to a trot. Outside the castle walls, smallfolk had taken up residence it seemed, as tents were pitched, some had food turning on spits, and small urchin-like children were running around, even at this time of night. When they seen her standard bearers bearing the direwolf of House Stark, some came out to watch them ride by, accompanied with shouts of " _Winterfell!"_ And _"Stark! Tully!"_. Some even shouted " _The She-Wolf of Winterfell!"._ One was even telling his neighbours "That girl is her aunt come again." That made her feel proud.

  
The castles courtyard was crowded, even at this time of night, and that would largely be due to the fact that her uncle, along with his entire household it seemed, was waiting for her in the yard.  
She grinned at him as she eased her cherry bay destrier to a walk, and vaulted down. Edmure Tully walked forward and hugged her. "Lyanna. It has been too long."  
"Agreed, uncle. But I am here now." She replied. Introductions were then made to his household, which thankfully wasn't as big as she thought, as all she wanted to do was jump into her bed and sleep. It had been hectic, as she'd spent the last three and a half weeks riding hard from King's Landing. The Kingsroad traffic was also heavy at some points, which slowed them down, but at least they weren't troubled. Some had even recognised her for her rather infamous tourney achievements, which had made her famous across the realm.

  
It seemed that Edmure didn't have the energy to discuss anything at this hour, as all he did was introduce her to a handmaiden who was to show her to her room, before saying, "We'll speak more on the morrow." She was grateful for that.  
Her handmaiden had a warm tub ready for her, and as soon as she was washed, scrubbed and dried, she dismissed the girl. Her bed was calling her name.  
That night she dreamed of the Tourney of the Hand, where all her valour and recklessness was displayed to the world.

  
The next morning she broke her fast on bacon and sausages, and also dipped in to a salad filled with almonds and apples. Fat Tom, true to his name, ate more than everyone else, and managed even four more helpings of the sausages. She imagined the cooks in the castles kitchens were not big fans of his. _It's a wonder they have any sausages left,_ she thought.

  
She met with Edmure in the Lord's solar, and they sat and discussed things for most of the morning.  
"You should pay your grandfather a visit after this, Lyanna. He's taken ill, and slowly losing his wits. He keeps calling for Cat and Lysa, and even Minisa, the poor man." Edmure suggested. Lyanna nodded. It would be a great shame to see a man as great as Hoster Tully deteriorate, but you never knew - the man could die this very day or within a moon's turn, mayhaps a year. She couldn't stay here a year, she needed to get back to Winterfell as her father commanded, as far away as possible from the Lannister's. Robb needed her, as did Bran and baby Rickon, who would be yearning for his mother probably.

  
She boldly asked him, "Did you hear about what I did, at the Tourney of The Hand?"  
She didn't expect her uncles reply, however. "Your great-uncle grinned and cheered when I told him, but I think you were bloody stupid to do something so reckless." His voice grew stern.  
"I did it to take revenge." She stated.  
"On who? Someone who dishonoured a friend?"  
"I'm sure you know the stories about The Mountain, uncle." She said, not backing down. "Seventeen years ago, that man bashed a newborn baby against a wall, and with that baby's blood still on his hands, raped the mother of that baby. I simply don't think scum like that deserve to live. I wanted to show the world that girls can do things that boys and men do, only in my case, ten times better."  
"You almost got yourself killed." He snapped. "Were you my daughter you'd be getting taken over a knee and spanked for disobedience. I'm honestly speechless as to how you've gotten away with this."  
"I'm the one being called reckless, but how can women be the lesser sex when Ser Gregor was the one who tried to attack me just because he lost a tilt?" Lyanna quipped. That silenced her uncle for a second. "The fact still stands. Yes, I entered a tourney, big deal. Yes I unhorsed The Mountain and countless others, and yes I revealed myself. And yes, Ser Gregor did attack me, but look at me, uncle, I barely got a scratch. The fight barely lasted two minutes before King Robert got to his feet and screamed at us to stop. I held my own against a known swordsman, is that not more of an achievement than a disappointment?"  
"I don't want to be angry with you, Lyanna, but please, before I slap you, get out of my sight. You have freedom of the castle, but don't show yourself to me before dinner. I need to calm down." Edmure Tully said, and Lyanna barely noticed how angry her uncle looked. She curtly nodded, before storming out the solar, and went to her grandfather's bedchamber.

  
She must've still been wearing a dark look, as the guards on the door scrambled to open the door as soon as they seen her. When she entered, she seen the maester, who's name had already evaded her.  
"Ah, lady Lyanna, your uncle did say you might visit." The man smiled. She offered him a smile back.  
"How is he doing?" She asked quietly. She couldn't actually tell if Hoster Tully was awake or not.  
"Very ill, I'm afraid. His mind is getting weaker, and he keeps saying things from years ago. Just yesterday he asked me if Robert had won his battle at Summerhall." The maester replied in a whisper as they both stood and looked on at the Lord of the Riverlands in all his bedridden glory.  
"You may sit with him, my lady, hold his hand and let him know who you are. I am nipping to my quarters to get him more milk of the poppy, but you may stay as long as you like." He offered, and she smiled and sat in the chair beside the old man's bed.

  
She didn't want to startle the man, not knowing what he'd do if she suddenly grabbed his hand, so instead she spoke to him. "Hello, Lord Tully, I am your granddaughter, Lyanna Stark."  
All that met her was silence. She wasn't surprised. Does he even remember he has grandchildren? She thought.  
Then a soft voice came from him. "Lyanna... Lyanna.. Ned's sister... Stolen.. Dragon prince.."  
"My aunt, that is. I'm named in her honour." She whispered softly.  
"Lyanna.. Ned.. Catelyn, the wedding! When is the wedding?!" The man managed to string a sentence together.  
"What wedding?"  
"Cat... Brandon.."  
Her mother was originally meant to marry her uncle, Brandon Stark, but he'd died alongside her other grandfather, Rickard, so she married Ned instead. "Cat married Ned, grandfather. Brandon is dead."  
"Dead? Dead.." Was all he said.  
By then, the maester had come back, and soon enough Hoster Tully was drinking the milk of the poppy the same way a newborn babe suckled from its mother's teats. "He'll sleep for a while now, my lady."  
"That's fine. I've got some work to do any ways. Have you had any Ravens from Winterfell, maester?" She asked politely.  
"I haven't, my lady, but I'm sure your brother is doing a fine job of holding it." He replied. She thanked him for his service before leaving.

  
As she walked back to her bedchamber, she reflected on all that her uncle had said. Was she nothing but a rule-breaking, insolent girl? She thought that what she done was brave, heroic, and worthy of love and praise. Besides, she wouldn't have even thought of the idea done it if it wasn't for her brothers.

**_Flashback_**  
The night before the Royal family arrived, Lyanna, Robb, Jon and Theon had supper in one of the inns in the market square, just outside Winterfell. They weren't too much in their cups, per say, they were just enjoying their brief time of freedom and the time they had left to spend together having fun - with Jon leaving with uncle Benjen to join the Night's Watch, and Lyanna going south with their father and sisters to meet her betrothed, Renly Baratheon.

  
Theon soon suggested having a drinking contest, and whoever won the most in five rounds won. At the end, her and Jon were tied, and Jon suggested to her that if she won, "she'd have to enter a tourney as a mystery knight."  
Lyanna ended up winning.

  
And the four of them discussed that idea right up until the innkeep ushered them out, as they'd stayed in right up until closing time. Robb and Theon took a bit of convincing, as they didn't wholly like the idea (Robb was scared of her getting hurt or being dishonoured, whilst Theon argued that someone might attempt to harm her afterwards) but in the end, as soon as they were back in Winterfell, they sneaked into the armoury. Mikken slept on the second floor, so they moved about quietly. In the end they all had managed to conjure up random bits of armour that would fit her womanly frame. The helmet was the most important part, and they'd found one. It was a large, visored helm - silver, but in some lights had a copper tinge to it. It would serve.

  
The rest of her armour were just random bits and pieces. The chainmail shirt they found was about four sizes too big, and was too long on the arms, but it didn't matter. The breastplate was of good hard metal, but the gauntlets on her arms, shoulders and the greaves on her legs were all ill-fitting, but they couldn't risk asking Mikken. The smith may of found it suspicious if she went asking for armour, even if she told a made-up story that it was for someone else.

  
And so Lyanna went to her bed that night, with her trunk packed, and her armour hidden at the bottom of it, for she was to use it in the Hand's tourney to do something highborn girls had never done before.


	7. Jon

It was Ser Alliser who informed him of what Lyanna had done.  
"Did you hear, men?" The man gathered everyone's attention at breakfast. "Lord Snow's half-sister thinks herself a man with cock and balls, as she won the Hand's Tourney." Some of Thorne's men erupted in laughter, with them sneering things like "stupid wolf bitch" and "Why on earth would they let a girl compete in a tourney? Madness I tell you, madness!" Jon almost couldn't believe that she'd done it. He had helped her get ready for that tourney, and the only reason she'd done it was because she out-drank him at that stupid drinking game Greyjoy made them all take part in. He had found her that helm that would help disguise the fact that she was a girl. Him and Robb and Theon had all helped her.

However, she wasn't meant to reveal herself.  
But she had, because she was Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, fearless and ferocious, not caring if anyone caught her with a sword in her hand, and when she had won, he could bet that she was feeling pumped with adrenaline and so dared delve into deeper waters by taking that helmet off and letting her hair loose - revealing who the champion really was.  
So that's why he just sat and glowered. Grenn just said that he should ignore them, and Pyp tried to distract him by doing that stupid trick with his ears. Edd however looked intrigued.  
"They're just jealous because they'd probably get unhorsed in their first tilt if they ever entered the lists." Sam offered.  
"Ser Alliser fought on the Trident for the Targaryen's, and survived." Jon pointed out. "I'm willing to bet he could do okay in a tourney."  
"My father used to say that jousting is three-quarters horsemanship, and to be a good jouster you must first master horses." Sam said. "Do we know if Ser Alliser's good on a horse?"  
"He's been on rangings, so aye." Grenn replied. "Why did your sister enter the tourney, Jon?"  
Jon felt like they needed a good laugh, and wanted Thorne to think that they were making japes about him and his goons, so told the truth, "She beat me, my brother Robb and our fathers ward Theon at a drinking contest." They soon all burst out laughing. Pyp almost spat out his ale. Grenn had to thump Edd on the back as he had almost choked. "Well, she seems like a character," Toad, who had sat down barely a minute ago, but had heard their conversation, put in.  
"Are girls not forbidden from doing stuff like that?" Pyp asked.  
"Try telling Lyanna that girls can't wield swords, and she'd whack you on the backside before you can say you were only japing." Jon laughed.

  
Somehow Chett decided to join them. "I seen Aemon's letter," he gruffly said. "She beat The Mountain, those Kingsguard Knights, countless others. The Mountain even attacked her afterwards."

  
Jon's heart dropped. "What?!"  
"When the lass took 'er helm off and showed everyone, The Mountain got angry and swung his sword at her. It would've cut half her head off if everyone didn't start shouting and screamin'. She drew her own sword, and round n' round their horses spun with their riders locked in combat until the King boomed at them to stop." Chett explained, the common hall now silent as everyone was listening. Then he added. "I think The Mountain should've killed 'er, t' be honest. Hell, the bitch should've been raped for cheating her way into it. I bet she used some dark arts to give power to her lance arm."

  
Edd gave him a "Don't you even think about it" look, but regardless, Jon practically vaulted across the table. How dare this mere leechman's son speak about his half-sister like that! The fat cunt had more boils on his face than a child with pox. Lyanna had been supportive to Jon and treated him like her own brother ever since they were old enough to walk and talk. She gave her mother inappropriate gestures behind her back when Lady Catelyn would scorn or glare at him for merely existing. And yet this lowlife he now had by the throat suggested that she should be raped and killed just because she was rebellious? He could hear Grenn and Toad saying "Jon, NO!!" And "Lay off him Jon, he's not worth it". Pyp was holding Lark the Sisterman back, as the man was Chett's friend and was probably about to jump on Jon. Out the corner of his eye, he seen Edd instantly run to Lord Commander Mormont, who had just entered, and demanded him to do something.  
_"JON, STEP BACK RIGHT NOW!_ " Mormont bellowed, silencing everyone.

Jon in that moment wanted nothing more for the ground to swallow him up. Everyone was looking at him. Thorne was grinning at him evilly, as were his cronies. Three-Finger Hobb, who had come through to see what all the commotion was about, held an emotionless expression, but his eyes told him that he was disappointed. Donal Noye was probably the only adult that looked sympathetic, bar Toad, Giant, Sam, Grenn, Edd and Pyp, who he knew supported him, but their heads were not looking up.  
And worst of all, Mormont looked like he wanted to skin Jon.  
"Wait outside, Snow. Chett, explain."

  
Jon had to fight the urge to stomp out and slam the door, as it would surely make him look like a little boy, so he left calmly, but once outside, thought the idea of screaming sounded appealing. Down below in the yard, he seen the Rangers mounting up. Mormont was sending them out ranging to find Ser Waymar Royce, who was yet to return and was missing. Uncle Benjen was the last to mount up, and Jon caught his eye. Benjen gave him a look that said 'What did you do?' but Jon didn't have a chance to reply as his uncle and his Rangers were now riding out the gate. He lamely raised a hand and waved farewell, although it was surely useless and he would look like a right twat as none of them were looking at him, but he did it regardless. He hoped they would return soon. A few minutes later, Mormont stepped outside. He held a hard look, and Jon gulped.  
"Chett says that he admired your sisters courage and that he would marry her if not for his vows."  
Jon burst out laughing at the stupidity of Chett's lie. "Lord Commander, he said that Lyanna deserved to be raped and killed for entering that damned tourney, and that she meddled in witchcraft to give power to her arm."  
"I believe you Snow, and I understand why you attacked Chett. A brotherly love. You love your half-sister and can't bear the thought of her getting harmed. A boy would try everything to keep his sisters honour in tact, but a man would sit back and try to ignore meaningless words. Words are wind, Snow, and Chett clearly wanted a reaction out of you. Anything to make you embarrass yourself. I know it's hard, but don't let him irk you. Besides, I don't think a blind old crone would marry him, much less your noble sister." Mormont said, his last sentence making Jon smile.  
"Did Uncle Benjen know what Lyanna did before he left? How long will he be away for?" Jon asked.  
"He did, and he kept grinning and saying how what she done reminded him of something he was involved with when he was younger. Not even I know how long he will be away for, Snow, they're off to find wayward Ser Waymar, who seems to have lost his way. As soon as they find him, they'll return." Mormont replied, and Jon knew that the 'if they find him' part really meant 'if they find him _dead or alive'_ , but he kept quiet.

Ser Alliser was almost unbearable that morning when they were drilling. After Sam had been sent to the ground cowering for the fifth time, Thorne brought out a ten foot long lance and said "Tarly, you ought to try out a lance, seeing as you're three quarters a weeping girl and one quarter craven." That caused an uproar of laughter. Jon wasn't the least impressed. Rast then shouted out, "Maybe Lord Snow will take it, and we can see if he's as good a knight as his sister."  
Words are wind, words are wind, words are wind, Jon kept repeating Mormont's words in his head.  
"Not even Ser Alliser would say that if your uncle was here," Toad said quietly. "Just picture him shoving that lance up their arses to calm you."  
_Now that would be a delight to see_ , Jon thought.


	8. Eddard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have gathered from this chapter, Lady is actually alive!! Just so I don't have to explain it later, basically after Nymeria bit Joffrey and Cersei sentenced Lady to death, Lyanna was one step ahead as she personally took Lady, Nymeria and her own direwolf Rhaenyra (who will appear in later chapters) away and trusted a loyal Stark guard to lay low for a few weeks (she'd told Ned this plan beforehand) and the guard hid in a manse in King's Landing for the whole time they were there, and then met them in Duskendale. I know it sounds odd but oh well.

It was well into the hour of the wolf when Ned and Cat received the signal from Jory down below that it was clear to come out.  
With two quite upset daughters in tow, they kept to the shadows and walked outside.

  
Tonight, Sansa was to be shipped to Dorne, on board the ship _Torrhen Stark_ which Wyman Manderly had sent down the White Knife river all the way to Duskendale. From there, it would travel to Dorne by way of passing through The Gullet, swinging right past Massey's Hook, staying well east of Tarth and Shipbreaker Bay until finally passing through the Broken Arm of Dorne to take anchor five leagues from Sunspear.

  
He prayed that it would be a relatively easy passage, as he didn't know if Sansa got seasick or not, but he didn't want the ship to meet any pirates, or any Lannister ships which might recognise her and go skittering off to tell Cersei. That would foil the plan completely, and Renly Baratheon had already been making complaints. Just three weeks ago, he'd been betrothed to his eldest daughter Lyanna, but the youngest Baratheon was there at the Hand's Tourney when his daughter shocked everyone by revealing herself as the mystery knight who had won. Afterwards, Renly had stomped up to him, saying that he was still Ned and Stannis's ally, but he couldn't carry on being engaged to Lyanna.

  
To be honest, Ned didn't mind calling the engagement off. He knew he shouldn't have favourites amongst his children, but the moment he first held Lyanna after she was born.. He adored his eldest, and would do anything for her. He had been scared out of his wits when she took that helmet off, and when Gregor Clegane started swiping his sword at her as if to kill her.. He'd almost died of fright. He could almost picture his sister Lyanna in his daughters place, covered in blood, smelling of blue winter roses, pleading with him, _"Promise me, Ned.._ " He shivered.

  
And now his third born was being shipped off to a far warmer climate to marry a random prince who he only knew because he knew his father. Stannis and Renly had waved off his worries about Quentyn Martell, saying that if Sansa could survive Joffrey, she'd survive this boy no bother, but they didn't understand. He'd caught Joffrey screaming at Sansa, whilst she was crying her eyes out, and the boy would have had Ser Boros Blount beat her had he not stormed in and stopped the vile boy.

  
The gate which separated the Dun Fort from the city was guarded, so he pulled Sansa and Arya to a halt and whispered to them, 'Girls, put your hoods up and hide your faces."  
They done so, although Sansa really didn't look happy. Catelyn walked forwards with Jory, and when the guards seen Ned, they instantly opened the gate. "Lord Stark," they nodded in acknowledgement.  
"Evening lads, just sending some prisoners off to The Wall." Ned said, and he thought it was convincing enough.  
The walk to the harbour wasn't particularly long, and soon enough, they were on the pier, with Sansa's luggage being taken on to the massive warship, and her ladies in-waiting waiting for her.

  
Ned had kind of picked Sansa's ladies himself, as half of them were daughters belonging to men he could trust, whilst the other half were daughters of men who's loyalty could be questioned, so their daughters were chosen purely so that their Lord fathers loyalty was ensured. Vayon's own daughter Jeyne was going on the trip, she was an obvious choice as she had been Sansa's friend for a while, and would appreciate seeing more of the wider world. Maege Mormont was simply delighted when he wrote to her and asked if she could send one of her daughter's, and so Jorelle Mormont was dispatched and had arrived that morning. Eleanor Mooton was the daughter of Lord Willam Mooton of Maidenpool, a man belonging to a family notorious for changing loyalty as a man changes his trousers. The young girl greeted Sansa warmly. Eddara Tallhart was also among them, the girl was Ser Helman's daughter and even in the darkness her eyes shone. Ned suspected that the girl was named in his honour.

  
One of Jon 'the Greatjon's Umber's daughters would be going too. She couldn't have been more than eleven years old but was still quite tall. Eleyna Westerling was the only one from the westerlands going to Dorne, as he trusted the other houses as far as he could spit. Some daughter of some Lord Caswell was in attendance as well, he couldn't mind her name, but she was of an age with Lyanna and Robb and Jon.

  
The last of Sansa's ladies was a girl that both Stannis and Renly had recommended, which was odd as the girl bore the surname Storm, indicating that she is a bastard. He wondered why this girl was so special, but when he seen glanced a look at her face, he knew at least who her father was straight away. She was one of the many Bastard daughters of Robert.

  
Catelyn was beside him. "They're all so smiley," she said quietly. "But will they still be smiling when they get to the vipers nest?"  
"House Martell are far too honourable to harm young girls, Cat." He said. "They'll be well looked after. Do you think I'd send Sansa there if I didn't know for certain that I had Doran Martell's full support?"  
"I'm sorry, I know you're right, Ned, but I can't help but wonder." She wiped her face. "Let's see her off, then."

  
They really couldn't hang around long, as anyone could be watching, so Ned pulled Sansa in to a brief but loving hug. "I love you, Sansa, and I know you'll love it there." He kissed her forehead. "If you have any troubles, send a Raven. But remember the code I told you to write in whilst you're there?"  
"I do, father." She smiled. "I'll remember to use it. And I won't tell anybody about the plan. Not even my ladies."  
"Good girl," he said lovingly. "Make friends with your ladies-in-waiting, as friends are important. I'll see you when the time is right."

  
Sansa said farewell to Catelyn, who was trying so hard not to cry. Sansa even hugged Arya and wished her good fortune, and surprisingly Arya thanked her. Once all the farewells were done, Jory brought forward Lady, and some of Sansa's ladies tensed up at the sight of the sweet direwolf, but soon relaxed. When they were all on board, including Septa Mordane and Alyn, (who Ned had made Sansa's personal sworn shield), Sansa even had them petting her, which was a good sight. _Thank the Gods Lyanna managed to save the wolfs life,_ Ned thought. _Else Sansa would be lost._

  
And within five minutes, _Torrhen Stark_ 's anchor was lifted, the oarsmen were to their oars, and the ship started its course. Sansa and the girls still waved from the deck even when it was well away from the pier - they could faintly make out their outlines and hear their giggles carry across the water.

  
Ned sighed in relief, "That went as well as we could have expected."  
Catelyn nodded. "Are you sure we can rely on her ladies?"  
"I don't see why not," Ned said, and was about to say further when Vayon returned from doing the rounds.  
"Nobody was lurking about, my Lord, it seems Duskendale sleeps." He reported.  
"Did Ned really have you patrolling, Vayon?" Catelyn said in disbelief. "That's a shame, as you didn't see Jeyne off."  
Vayon Poole shrugged. "I spent all of yesterday staying with her and spending our last while together full of delight, my lady. Even though it may be a year or two before I see her again, I know she's in safe hands."

  
They made their way back to the castle as quietly as field mice. The guards who were at the gate before gladly let them through. Before they knew it, they were safely within the Dun Fort's walls, climbing the steps back up to their wing of the castle, - Lord and Lady Rykker, and everyone else none the wiser.

  
Jory seen Arya safely back to her bedchamber, and Ned smiled at his youngest daughter's tired expression. Clearly, she hadn't liked the idea of being woken in the middle of the night just so she could see her sister off, and tiredly waved goodbye as Ned and Cat, along with Vayon, continued up the steps to their level.

  
That night, Ned dreamt he was by Robert's side as his best friend lay in his bed dying from the wound the boar had given him, but as quick as a flash, Robert was now Lyanna, who had haunted his dreams for nigh on sixteen years.  
_"Promise me, Ned."_


	9. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens approx. a month after the previous chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are the names of Sansa's ladies in-waiting:  
> Jeyne Poole  
> Jorelle Mormont  
> Eleanor Mooton  
> Eddara Tallhart  
> Genna Umber  
> Eleyna Westerling  
> Amelia Caswell  
> Rhea Storm
> 
> (Genna Umber, Amelia Caswell and Rhea Storm are my own made-up non-canon characters)

Sansa stood on the prow of the ship and watched its journey. It was very early in the morning, and by midday, they were expected to dock five miles away from Sunspear.  
It seemed that nobody else on the ship was awake, apart from her, the crew and Lady. She was greatful for that much at least. She did love her ladies, truly, but by god did they snore and toss and turn in their sleep. It bothered her that much that she was now stood up on deck, watching the Dornish coastline and practically basking in the heat.  
She had a feeling that she'd be leaving Dorne a different skin colour.

  
In her haste to be quiet and slip out the cabin without waking her ladies, she had thrown on the gown she had worn yesterday, but it was a Northern one, which meant it was heavy, and she'd have drowned in her own sweat if there wasn't casks of cold water on board. Jeyne had stupidly chosen to wear furs, and it meant she'd been confined to her bed with heatstroke for the past few days. I hope they've got Dornish clothes ready for us, Sansa almost prayed, else we'll be exhausted from the heat before I even meet my Dornish prince.

  
She sat and thought about her family, and how they were doing. She wasn't overly a fan of this whole operation to dethrone the Lannister's, but with so many kingdoms against them, she felt content that they'd at least be on the winning side.

  
She got the fright of her life when she heard the cabin door open, and grimaced slightly when she seen it was Jeyne.  
"Morning Sansa," the girl smiled.  
"I see you've overcome your heatstroke." Sansa grinned.  
"Aye, I have. Just in time for you to meet your Prince."  
Sansa blushed at that. "Don't remind me, I'm as nervous as it is."  
"Don't be," Jeyne reassured here, linking her arm with hers. "Your father wouldn't agree to the match if Quentyn Martell was just like Joffrey, he would of made sure he was suitable."  
"Considering he planned all of this with Stannis and Renly Baratheon over a single private dinner conversation, it doesn't seem as though must research was conducted." Sansa stated rather bluntly.  
Jeyne was silent for a moment, "well, even if he's a horrible boy, there's always his younger brother."  
"Who was almost betrothed to Princess Myrcella at one point, until my father betrothed her to Bran. He may not be happy with that."  
"Prince Trystane is barely eleven, he can't do anything to us."  
"No, but his older sister and their cousins can." Sansa almost shuddered.  
"The Sand Snakes do have a rather brutal reputation, they say."  
"Which means they'll either want to be my best friend or gut me inside out." Sansa said.

As soon as one of the crew members announced that they'd be docking soon, it seemed that all of her ladies dragged her back into the cabin to look presentable for meeting Quentyn. Soon enough, they helped her into a rose-pink gown, of slightly lighter material, that clung to her nicely. Her hair was being braided in a half up, half down manner, and all sorts of perfumes were being sprayed on her.

When they had all readied themselves, Sepa Mordane entered the cabin.  
"Ah, Sansa dear, you look wonderful. I'm sure Prince Quentyn and his family will take to you."  
"Thank you, Septa." Sansa replied politely, although she was feeling anything but good.  
"And you girls look nice as well," Septa Mordane turned to her ladies. "However, I feel the need to talk to you all in regards to our trip here. As ladies in-waiting to Lady Sansa, you will not do Handmaiden duties as such, but you will do your duty in serving her all the same. But remember, ladies, that Lord Varys has spies even in the Dornish court, which is why we need to be ultra careful not to let slip anything related to Lord Eddard's plans with the Baratheon brothers. You'll even need to tread carefully around the Sand Snakes as well, ladies. They may be bastards, but here in Dorne they treat their bastards as they do their own true born children, which means they can be lethal. Now, let's disembark this vessel. They'll be gathered outside."  
"Ooh, this is it!" Jorelle Mormont said excitedly.  
"We're finally meeting the Dornish!" Eleanor Mooton looked very pleased. She was the only lady in-waiting of Sansa's who was from the Riverlands, her own father sworn to her mother's father. She was chosen because House Mooton were apparently easily swayed when it came to loyalty, according to her father, so Eleanor accompanied her to Dorne to keep her father Lord William in check.  
Sansa, feeling halfway between fainting and vomiting, looked in the mirror one last time before hastily climbing up the steps out of the cabin. Jeyne stayed right behind her, herself dressed in a light grey gown.

Her ladies stopped gossiping as they got on the deck, and Sansa looked at the port. About a hundred people were gathered there under the sun and spear sigil of House Martell. They've come to see me, their new Princess. Sansa started to shake now.  
"Come on, Sansa, step forward now." Septa Mordane whispered to her. Sansa started to disembark the ship, and once she was finally off it, she set her eyes on her betrothed.  
She wasn't happy with him, but wasn't disappointed either.

Prince Quentyn Nymeros Martell stood a few feet away from her, looking very tall, was dressed nicely, and was slender. He looked every part a Prince of Dorne, but his looks said otherwise. He wasn't bad-looking, per say, but his face was quite round when she'd prefer it to be more sharp and his jawline more chiselled.  
It was silent for a moment as her ladies finished getting off the ship.  
"Lady Sansa, it is an honour to finally meet you." A man in a wheelchair started speaking, and she had no clue who he was until he introduced himself. "I am Prince Doran Martell, and we welcome you to Dorne."

  
Sansa tried not to look shocked. She knew that Prince Doran wasn't entirely capable of walking, but his case of gout looked to be quite sinister. His feet looked as long as a court jesters would dressed as a clown. "I am honoured to finally be here and meet you, my Prince." Sansa spoke, going into a courtesy as she did so.

  
"You are as beautiful as they say you are," a rather stunning woman stepped forward. She looked to be in her late twenties. "I am Princess Arianne Martell, heir to Dorne."  
Sansa prayed she didn't blush when the woman took her hands in hers and kissed her on both cheeks and then rather surprisingly on the mouth. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Princess. I pray that we become good friends in time." Sansa hoped that she wasn't making a fool of herself.  
"This is my littlest brother Prince Trystane," Arianne stepped aside as Sansa was introduced to a child who looked to be Bran's age, if not Arya's. He looked like he'd grow to look rather regal and handsome when he was older. Sansa knelt down and curtsied to the Prince, who grinned and said he couldn't wait to play many games of cyvasse against her.  
"And this is your betrothed, Prince Quentyn." Arianne introduced her to her Prince at last.

  
Quentyn stepped forward and took his hands in hers, and kissed both of them, kneeling down and looking up at her through his long eyelashes as he done so. Sansa could feel herself blushing, and hoped she didn't look so immature.  
"Your looks have stunned me beyond belief, my Princess," Quentyn's voice was very nice - it was so soft sounding, laced with a strong Dornish accent, and sent her to the seven heavens. Whilst he lacked in looks, his voice made up for it.  
"You're too kind, my Prince. I can't wait for us to get to know one another." Sansa smiled.

  
It took a few more minutes as the Dornish party were then introduced to Sansa's ladies in waiting, who were very polite and courteous (even Rhea, who was bastard born), and then Sansa was introduced to the household guard. The man stood behind Prince Doran, who was wielding a huge long axe, was Areo Hotah, a Norvosi who was captain of guard. He gave her a smile before she was introduced to Maester Caleotte, who said nothing but praise about her and her father.

  
"We have a wheelhouse prepared for you and your ladies to take you back to Sunspear, Lady Sansa." Prince Doran explained, as he led them over to the most extravagant wheelhouse Sansa had ever seen. It was black in colour and rimmed with orange and red. Inside, it could seat about ten or fifteen, maybe more at a push.  
"We'll ride back to Sunspear as soon as possible, so that we can get you all settled in and have a feast. We're holding one in honour of your arrival." Princess Arianne explained as she linked her arm with Sansa's and helped her in, before grinning at her. _Gods, she's stunning,_ Sansa thought, _and Theon of all people is to marry her._

  
Her ladies burst into more gossip as soon as the wheelhouse started into action.  
"Your betrothed isn't exactly the best looking, Sansa." Genna Umber said, a hint of disappointment in her voice.  
"He's nice, so far kind, and who cares about his looks? He's a Prince, that's all that matters." Sansa replied.  
"Did you see the knight that stood behind Princess Arianne?!" Eleyna gushed, and pretended to faint.  
"I cannot wait to see Sunspear in all its glory," Jeyne said.

When they eventually reached the castle of the Martell's, Sansa was blown away. In the sunshine, it looked like a flamboyant palace from some place in Essos. The castle overlooked the sea and beach, and somewhere within that castle was the Water Gardens, a private retreat which Prince Maron Martell had constructed as a gift for a Princess Daenerys Targaryen to mark Dorne joining the Seven Kingdoms. The Water Gardens were renowned for hosting highborn and lowborn children alike, and was known as a place where nobody was judged.

  
Beautiful towers which had on show all the glorious Rhoynish architectural designs marked Sunspear as the regal fortress of her husband to be's family power. The Tower of the Sun and the Spear Tower were easy to identify - the first one being a spectacular golden dome and the latter being a slender, tall spire were the first things that would catch your eye.

  
They all were gushing like little girls all the way until they were within Sunspear's courtyard, but Sansa didn't care. It was a stark contrast to Winterfell - Winterfell being a stronghold with massive walls that were almost a hundred feet tall, with massive towers reaching well above that, that was set in the heart of the north, which was very cold, dank and snowy. Sunspear however was all about elegance and beauty, set on the sunny coast of Dorne, which was very hot and sandy.  
They all gracefully disembarked the wheelhouse, as did the Dornish.

  
"Princess Sansa, you and your ladies luggage will be sent up to your chambers, and we offer you chances to refresh yourselves before joining us for a special lunch." Arianne explained, and Sansa grinned, gladly accepting, and thanked the princess before they were shown to her chamber.

  
None of them really spent long freshening up - Jorelle grumbled when Jeyne said they had to wear gowns, and they helped her into her light Dornish one, but that was it. They made their way down to the dining hall where the Martell's were awaiting them.  
Sansa sat down in between Arianne and Quentyn, whilst Trystane sat to his sisters left, and Doran sat to his oldest sons right. Areo Hotah stood behind Doran.

  
"Is Ser Areo going to stand the whole time?" Sansa wondered, not really sure if Areo Hotah was even a Ser.  
"Areo is my father's captain of guard, it is his job to always be alert and on the look out for danger. He will sit down and eat, eventually, but after he does his days duties." Arianne explained with a smile before she told Sansa what they would be served.

  
When the first dish came out - a red tomato soup, which Arianne promised was packed full of different spices, it was then that Quentyn started speaking.  
"How was your journey here, Princess Sansa?" He asked.  
"Very pleasant, my prince. The seas were a bit stormy when we passed Shipbreaker Bay, but other than that it was okay." She replied, smiling. Her betrothed smiled back.

  
When she took her first taste of Dornish cuisine, her mouth almost ignited in fire. She tried her best to ignore the hotness, but when Quentyn asked her how it was with a knowing grin, she just laughed and took a gulp of the water that was available, to try and cool her mouth down. It seemed that her ladies were struggling to get used to the fiery flavour, which caused everyone at the table to giggle.

  
It took almost half an hour for Sansa and her ladies to finish the soup and by the end of it, Sansa was hot everywhere. This will take a while to get used to, she thought.  
Thankfully, the second course wasn't anything to do with spicy food, but it was a Dornish red wine. It was so nice she almost downed it in one go.

  
"My brother, prince Oberyn, is arriving this afternoon, with his paramour Ellaria Sand, and all of his bastard daughters. They cannot wait to meet you, Princess Sansa. I wouldn't be surprised if Elia was riding ahead of the column at a full gallop to get here and meet you first." Doran explained, smiling in his chair. Little Trystane then got excited and asked his father if Obella, Dorea and Loreza would be with them, and when Doran said yes, the boy let out a whoop of delight.

  
Sansa found it sweet how Oberyn had named one of his daughters after his own sister, who had been brutally murdered years ago along with her children - her only crime being that she was wife to Prince Rhaegar and mother to his children. Lyanna had actually ridden in that tourney to try and avenge their deaths - by tilting against Ser Gregor Clegane, who she had unseated but unfortunately hadn't killed.

  
When the lookouts came in and said that Prince Oberyn was less than a mile away from Sunspear, they all gathered outside in the courtyard and stood.  
"They say Prince Oberyn is one of the most beautiful men in the realm," Eddara Tallhart gossiped.  
"How one man can have so many daughters is beyond me," said Rhea Storm, the only bastard amongst her ladies. "The demands and crankiness must drive him crazy."  
They giggled at that. Sansa noticed that when the gates finally opened, Amelia Caswell pulled her gown down slightly, as if she wanted more cleavage on show. _Not that any of us have that much to show anyway,_ she thought.

  
A massive wheelhouse was wheeled in to the yard, being driven by four jet black Dornish sand steeds that had orange manes and tails. The extravagant wheelhouse was black in colour, but rimmed with red, orange and yellow. Prince Oberyn's standard bearer carried a flag with the House Martell sigil on it, whilst another one carried a flag with the House Uller sigil on it (Ellaria Sand, his paramour, was the bastard daughter of Lord Uller of the Hellholt).

  
The doors to the wheelhouse was then opened, and the man who could only be Prince Oberyn climbed down, hand in hand with his lover. Ellaria Sand was certainly a sight - she was stunning, with tanned skin and dark hair that matched her dark eyes. She was wearing a flimsy two-piece dress, and had her belly on show.  
Prince Oberyn greeted his older brother happily, although he had to kneel down as Doran was wheelchair bound. Ellaria kissed the Prince of Dorne on the cheeks.  
Arianne and Trystane then stepped forward, and Sansa took Quentyn's arm and followed behind them, with her ladies behind her. She really hoped she looked graceful, as she hadn't even checked to see if her hair was still in the braid it was in this morning.  
Oberyn and Ellaria welcomed her to Dorne in their thick accents, and when they asked her how she was finding their country so far, she found that words came easy to her. Oberyn then teased his nephew, asking Quentyn where on earth did he find a girl as lovely as Sansa, which made the both of them blush and chuckle.  
And then Oberyn's daughters came out.

  
Obara Sand was the eldest out of them, being almost thirty years old, and Sansa noted that she was big-boned, long legged and quite stern but was quick to please. She kissed Sansa on the cheek in welcome, as did Nymeria, the second oldest, who was high-cheekboned and had hair as dark as her father's. Tyene Sand didn't look Dornish at all, but looked as innocent as a maid. Her soft voice and bright blue eyes were enough to make any man fall in love with her, but Sansa was willing to bet that she was as dangerous as the rest. Her and the next Sand Snake, Sarella, were on complete different ends of the colour spectrum skin wise. Tyene was as pale as milk, almost like Sansa, but Sarella was almost coal-coloured. She was probably of an age with Lyanna, Robb and Jon.

  
Sarella made apologies. "Elia Sand is a wild soul, Princess, and she went off on her own tangent to explore just when we were a few leagues away from here. She'll be back though."  
"That's quite alright, I gather she's quite adventurous." She smiled softly.  
Nymeria laughed. "Lady Lance, they've started calling her. She practises on her horse with her lance so much she'll be entering tourneys soon."  
Sansa giggled. "She'd get on just fine with my sisters, then."

  
Obella Sand was about ten or eleven, and she was a pretty youth. She looked like Ellaria, and her smile was very mischievous. Her skin was that tanned it looked copper.  
As if on cue, just after Sansa introduced herself to the two youngest Snakes, Dorea and Loreza, a horse rode through the gates at a fast pace, it's hooves beating against the sand and stone. The rider had to be Elia Sand, who was well aware that her absence had been noted. As she done a lap of the courtyard, Elias long hair was flowing out behind her the same way her horses tail was. She was wearing Dornish riding clothes - and had a sash that went from her left shoulder down to her right hip, but she was covered in dust, sand and what looked to be chalk.

  
Sansa thought that Prince Oberyn would surely be horrified that his haughty daughter was causing a scene and bringing shame by not even bothering to turn up until the end of the introductions, but he was the complete opposite. He called out, "Nice of you to join us, El." in an amused tone which caused laughter to stir amongst those gathered.  
Elia dismounted her horse and let a stable hand take it away before marching towards them. "I was only exploring, father." She said, as if she had the right of it.  
Elia greeted Doran, Arianne, Trystane and her parents before she turned towards Quentyn and Sansa. However, as soon as she laid eyes on Sansa, she exclaimed.

  
"Oh well well well, if it isn't our northern wolf come to make a name for herself."  
The courtyard fell a bit silent. Quentyn looked awkward next to her, and he gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "Cousin, well met, you look well."  
"Yes, well met indeed Quent. And, you are?" Elia replied, but turned to Sansa with a sharp look. She couldn't tell if the girl was only jesting or not.  
"Erm, I'm Sansa Stark of Winterfell, my lady." She replied, trying not to sound nervous.  
Elia Sand looked her up and down, critically examining her. "I hope not all northerners are as bland and as boring as you are, Lady Stark. Who are those behind you, your ducklings? They aren't ugly ones, I suppose but-"  
"-Elia, that's enough!" Ellaria Sand barked. Sansa was glad for that. She was baffled as to how Elia didn't like her, even though they literally just met.  
"I'm just saying, mother, she's not exactly the cousin by-law I hoped for-"  
"-Say another word and you won't be living long enough for Sansa to be your cousin by-law," Ellaria barked, causing everyone to either flinch or raise their eyebrows. "Now you will apologise to Princess Sansa and get inside so I can scrub you clean of that horrid horse smell, young lady."

  
Elia mumbled an apology to her, but she truly didn't mean it as she just stood and pretended to examine her fingernails as her mother, trying to look graceful as she practically dragged her daughter by the arm inside, her lips squished in a thin straight smile - probably meaning that she was going to give her eldest daughter a right telling-off when they got inside away from everyone.  
Quentyn turned to her, "I am so sorry for the way she spoke to you, Princess." He held her hand. "Elia had always been a bit quirky and wild."  
Sansa waved his apology off. "Don't worry, my Prince, I've heard far worse insults told to me in King's Landing, that was not even hurtful compared to that."

  
Elia's comments _did_ hurt her in a way, but she wasn't going to say that. She had to appear strong to the Dornish, to convince them that she was the Princess worthy to marry Quentyn. The whole Martell family swarmed her, apologising sincerely for Elia's comments, and she told them all the same thing she told Quentyn. She could tell they meant their apologies though, unlike Elia.  
_Doran said that she'd be the only galloping through the gates ahead of everyone else to meet me in her excitement,_ she pondered, _it would be more likely that she'd ride through those gates to point and make japes at me._


	10. Barristan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get an insight from Barristan Selmy about his regrets, what should have happened, and what exactly is being carried out by Stannis and Renly. This chapter takes place a few hours after the Cersei chapter. Enjoy :)

There were times that Barristan had felt ashamed in his life. Even though he was a Kingsguard, and had done his job dutifully and with honour, he still had made some mistakes in his life that still haunted him to this day.

  
Take his love for Ashara Dayne, for example. He had been a Kingsguard for a while when he first laid his eyes upon the fair maid of Starfall, with her stunning Valyrian eyes and slender figure, with a smile that melted the hearts of every man who met her. She was the sister of his fellow Kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne, who was one of the best swordsman in the realm, and even though Barristan had never told anyone about his love for Princess Elia's companion, he knew for a fact that the Sword of the Morning would most likely not react well.

  
And then there was that time where he rescued King Aerys from Duskendale.  
That day, he had felt like a hero, - risking his life for his King, as his vows would have him bid. When he had scaled the walls in the darkness and arrived at the cell Aerys was contained in, half a year had made the man look like a shrivelled prune. Aerys had cowered into a corner when Barristan had opened the cell door, and must've thought that he had been sent to kill him. _Maybe he should have been,_ Barristan thought.

He felt horrible thinking that, but being down in a dungeon for half a year, the last of the sanity Aerys II had left had been shredded. After, the last dragon King had took a horrible vengeance on the Darklyn's and Hollard's - Lord Denys's foreign wife, Lady Serala, had suffered a terrible fate - her womanly parts and tongue were all torn out before being burned alive.

  
Reflecting on that, Barristan wondered that if he hadn't rescued the Mad King, the dragons would still be ruling today - with Rhaegar or mayhaps young Viserys as King. After all, Lord Denys had sworn that Aerys would have been executed if Tywin had stormed the city, so if Tywin had done just that before Barristan volunteered to rescue the King, the madness would be gone out of Aerys in the instance the life slipped out of him.

  
And now, he felt ashamed.  
Just hours ago, he had let Joffrey and Cersei be taken in to custody, and he had no clue where Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen were. He had sat and watched Renly's men drag Cersei from the counsel chamber, and at the time, he thought he was doing the right thing for the sake of the realm, but looking back, he wondered if he should attempt to rescue Joffrey the way he had once rescued Mad Aerys.

  
 _No_ , he decided. _Joffrey is as vicious as a mad lion_.  
Joffrey hadn't even sat the throne yet, but Barristan knew that the boy would end up leaving the realm in ruins. He was quick to anger, very impatient (which was not ideal since he would have to spend long hours in counsel meetings and hearing audiences of people wanting their pleas granted), and relied on his mother for everything. Cersei, although he was honour bound to serve her as well due to her status as Queen Regent, was as bad a ruler as she was a mother, so she would probably ruin the realm as bad as her son would. Barristan would gladly serve Joffrey's younger siblings though. Princess Myrcella was very sweet natured and caring, and Tommen was too. Myrcella even reminded him of Rhaegar's young daughter Princess Rhaenys, who was always with her black kitten Balerion and smiling.

  
Barristan entered the White Sword Tower, and seen Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blount looking worn out.  
"Ser Preston was killed in the yard," Trant announced. Barristan was taken aback.   
"I'm guessing Renly's coin meant nothing to him, as he would have tried to save Joffrey." Barristan said, and Blount nodded.  
"If Joffrey and his mother are held captive in Maegor's, where are Myrcella and Tommen?" Blount asked.  
"Ser Arys left with them this morning. I cannot tell you the location they're at, but he's keeping them safe by commands of Renly." Barristan replied.  
All of a sudden, Ser Mandon Moore entered. He looked repulsed. "You fools!" He barked. "We are meant to have honour! IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL HONOUR, LOUNGING AROUND WHILST OUR KING IS HELD CAPTIVE AND A COUP IS TAKING PLACE?!"

  
When Ser Barristan looked from Ser Mandon to Blount and Trant, he felt uneased. They were all looking at him, and he knew in his heart that he was being played a fool.  
They all lunged at once. He may have been old, but Barristan Selmy was still better than all three of them put together. Trant really was a quite poor excuse of a knight, and was that slow that Barristan had enough time to block his strike, pull his dagger from its sheath, and using one hand to slice the part of Trant's arm where armour didn't protect, but he only cut him so much so it would only injure him - he refused to kill any of them.  
One down, two to go.

  
Ser Mandon and Ser Boros both struck him at once, but he blocked their attempts. He actually used a leg to knock Blount to the floor so that he could deal with Moore more efficiently. Barristan used his sword to make a quick swipe at Moore's face (he stupidly wasn't wearing a proper helmet), which left a long thin cut down his face, which started bleeding as fast as the Trident's current. Moore was sent to the floor screaming. Idiot.  
Now it was just Blount. The large oaf was just getting to his feet when Barristan knocked his sword out of his hand, sending it scraping across the floor.   
He thought that Boros might yield. But Boros was a stupid fool. He grumbled as he got to his feet, and Barristan used his sword to pivot before striking Blount down again in the back of the knees, where he had no sort of armour or protection.

  
And as quick as a blink, he left the White Sword Tower. He did have an inkling that one or two of the Kingsguard might take Stannis's bribe of coin and support the coup before betraying the cause later, but he didn't think they'd be so stupid as to try and kill him. You could pay sellswords to ensure loyalty, but those three were far from being sellswords, and they only pretended to go allow with the overthrow until they could find a perfect moment to strike.   
Which meant they'd probably try to free Cersei and Joffrey.

  
He made his way to the Throne room, where he just knew he'd find Stannis and Renly. The two brothers were at the foot of the Iron Throne, and may have been bickering before they seen him.  
"I've just been attacked by Ser Mandon, Ser Meryn and Ser Boros in the White Sword Tower," he explained in a rush, as he didn't know how long the three fools would stay down and injured for. "They've already betrayed your trust, my lords. I didn't kill them, but I've left them injured - for how long they'll stay on the floor I'm not sure."   
"We should throw them in cells immediately." Renly said, and was already summoning his men. Stannis looked like he was grinding his teeth. "The coup started hours ago, and yet three Kingsguard have already betrayed us. How long before Ser Jaime turns up with a force to try and siege us?"  
"Ser Jaime fled the morning King Robert died, my Lord." Ser Barristan reasoned. He knew he should really be calling Stannis 'Your Grace', but his claim wasn't yet solidified even with Joffrey imprisoned, and no crown sat his head.  
"Fled to where? Fled from what? There's clearly something he feared might happen. Might be he fears his secret relationship with his sister might get public, and how he will lose his head." Stannis said, getting agitated.

  
Renly reappeared, but lowered his voice. "I think word should be sent to Lord Stark," he whispered. "Some people loyal to Joffrey may have managed to escape in the chaos, and what if Lord and Lady Rykker are loyal to Joffrey? They'd likely keep him, his wife and daughters hostage. Who knows, they might kill him. Either way, he has to be ready to flee at a moments notice."  
Barristan could see the reason in that. "Yes, I agree, but I thought we imprisoned Grand Maester Pycelle? He wasn't at the small counsel this morning when the coup began."  
"Oh no, he's not imprisoned. He was still asleep when my men sent to drag him out his bed to tell him that the government was in a takeover, and that he had to swear fealty to me." Stannis replied.  
"I feel duty inclined to ask - where are Myrcella and Tommen? You said they were safe, Renly, but where is Ser Arys taking them?" Barristan asked.  
"Ser Arys is taking them to Storm's End for the time being, Ser, where they'll be treated with every comfort by my castellan. No harm will come to them. Plus, they'll have a companion in our nephew, Edric Storm."  
He knew the name. "Edric.. Roberts bastard son? By that Florent girl.. Delena?"  
"Yes," Stannis replied curtly. Then he realised - the night Edric had been conceived, it was in the same bed that Stannis was to consummate his marriage with Selyse Florent - only Robert and Delena Florent had already made love in it. No wonder the new King was stern - it most likely ruined his wedding night. _And his wives chances to birth a son, it seems_.

  
About an hour or so later, his three so-called Kingsguard brothers had been thrown in the dungeons, and Stannis had ordered people - both highborn and common folk - to enter the throne room. He'd even sent for the High Septon to be present. Gyles Rosby was the first of the nobility to turn up, coughing horribly into his handkerchief so much that Stannis got annoyed and stalked away. The Throne room was filled to the rafters with people, some were angry whilst some were merely intrigued. Some lowborn man shouted out "Where is King Joffrey?!". Barristan seen him being led out.   
The High Septon was led in, and he had with him seven tubes of seven different oils - which could only mean that he was blessing Stannis with the seven oils.

  
It seemed that Stannis Baratheon would be crowned today - as the First of His Name.


	11. Robb

Winterfell seemed empty with everyone gone south. Bran had woken up from his coma a lot earlier than expected, and although everyone suspected that surely he'd be paralysed after such a hefty and long fall, his legs did actually work. However, whenever Bran moved his legs in his bed three weeks ago (when he'd woken up), they'd flare up in a lot of pain that would sometimes have Bran screaming for hours on end. The first time Robb had been in a room with him after his awakening, he'd almost started crying. Bran was so young, and to see him in that much pain and not be able to do anything about it shattered him. Bran had wailed "Robb, MAKE IT STOP!!" that many times he swore it would haunt him forever. Maester Luwin had some calming Draughts and some other potions and concoctions which killed the pain, but sometimes even they weren't enough. When all else failed, the milk of the poppy never did, and after Luwin would administer it to Bran, he would fall into a slumber which would leave him without pain for a while. Every time Bran screamed, Robb would only think of killing the person who did this to his little brother. How could they push a mere ten year old boy from a tower with no remorse?!

  
Poor little Rickon was unsettled as well. The youngest Stark would follow Robb about all day, and at times even cling to his legs and cry for mother and father. It hurt Robb to tell Rickon off for causing a scene and saying slightly nasty things to the young boy like "Do you see Bran and me bawling like babies?!" and "a Stark of Winterfell must act strong for his people, not cry like a foal being separated from its dam. Stop crying, Rickon.", but it was stressful.

  
He was glad when Cley Cerwyn decided to surprise visit him one day, after a stressful counsel session had ended. Castle Cerwyn was only a day and a halfs ride from Winterfell, but Robb had been that busy since taking over Lord's duties in his father's absence that he had barely had any time to himself.

  
Cley was a year and a half younger than him, but at fourteen years old the boy looked the same age as Robb (although his voice was still quite childish). A feast was held that night, and Bran surprised everyone by walking in to the hall with a childish swagger. Maester Luwin was following carefully behind him, in case Bran's legs suddenly gave way or the pain returned, but it was an amazing achievement. A round of applause went up and Bran couldn't stop smiling.  
"Bran, it's good to see you looking so well." Cley Cerwyn greeted. Bran hadn't forgotten his courtesies, as he politely thanked Cley and asked him how things were at Castle Cerwyn.   
"Oh, all's well. My sister Jonelle spends all day in her books, even at the table. My Lord Father keeps saying that he's trying the hardest to find me a bride, but ain't letting me choose my own. My lady mother was distressed when she heard you had fallen, Bran, and she even prayed in the Godswood for your survival for about two weeks. Might be we have her to thank for your swift recovery."

  
"My father's betrothed me to Lady Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden." Robb casually said, taking a gulp of his drink. Next to him, Cley's face lit up.   
"They say she's one of the most stunning maidens in the realm, Robb! You must be delighted!" Cley gasped.  
Theon turned up at the wrong time. 'He stormed out the room when the letter informing him was read out," he said, grinning as he sat down beside Cley, who had a look of disbelief which then turned mischievous. "It's okay mate, even the greatest men can lack in size where it counts."  
Robb almost choked on his wine, and Theon and Cley burst out laughing. Bran looked a bit lost, and thank the gods Rickon wasn't listening. Maester Luwin gave Cerwyn an odd look from the dais, and Ser Rodrik was trying his hardest to hide his smile from behind his cup.  
When Cley least expected it, Robb playfully cuffed the boy on the back of his head, earning more laughs.   
"Theon scored better than me though, he's to marry a Dornish princess." Robb pointed out, causing Theon to blush profusely. Cley done a double take. He had every right to be speechless. Robb had to admit he thought the match between Theon and Arianne Martell was a tad odd. Greyjoy's had barely ever married to any of the other Great Houses, and preferred to just keep to their own islands, but now the heir of Balon Greyjoy was to wed in to one of the most powerful houses of the South. Robb had always thought that he ought to be the one to marry princesses and give them other little princes and princesses as children, but the Tyrell marriage would be a powerful one.

  
"But any ways, when is your fair lady due to arrive, Robb?" Cley asked after the main course of a twice-roasted boar was brought out and served to all. Robb could tell that a few people were a tad reluctant and thought it in slight bad taste, as King Robert had been gutted by a boar before his wounds festered, but as soon as everyone had had a taste of the animal, all complaints vanished, as it was delightful.  
"Father hasn't written back to say. Maybe she's still considering the offer." Robb replied.  
"I bet Alys Karstark will be crying with grief when she finds out you've been promised to another." Cerwyn quipped, and Theon smirked.   
_I'd soon rather cry with delight that I don't have Rickard Karstark as my father in-law_ , Robb thought cheekily.  
"Every northern maid will be, the girls love Robb." Theon chuckled.  
The rest of the feast passed with a lot of laughs and banter. Rickon totally came to life after the sweets were dished out (thanks to the sugar) and Robb excused both him and Bran, as they wanted to got to the Godswood and see their dire wolves.

  
It was at midday the next morning, when Robb was trying to best Theon and Cley at archery, that the raven came.


	12. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few hours after the first Sansa chapter.

Sansa was in her chamber, with Jeyne and Amelia, getting ready for the evening feast, whilst the others were refreshing and getting changed into different gowns.   
"That Elia Sand was a tad too hasty for my liking," Amelia Caswell said as she gently laced up the back of Sansa's pale yellow gown, which was something she wouldn't normally wear. It was long in the skirt, but it was virtually sleeveless and had a plunging neckline, which wasn't that revealing, but still showed a bit more than she would ever in the North. She wondered if her mother would approve of it.  
"Hasty? I'd say she sounded like a spoiled brat. Did you hear how she mocked Sansa? She's not even _ladylike_ , and the cheek of her to saunter in looking like a dusty tart-"  
"-Honestly Jeyne, don't take what she said to heart. I'm not bothered about simple words. What she said paled very lightly in comparison to the horrible things Joffrey said. Maybe she has a hard time trusting people? Give her a chance." Sansa insisted. Jeyne sighed and mumbled an 'I guess so,' before getting the comb and readjusting Sansa's hair to start a new braid.

  
After an hour, Alyn came to her door and informed Amelia (who answered it, as Jeyne was getting herself ready) that the feast would be starting in less than an hour. Sansa really hoped that her other ladies were almost ready, as she had to be on time to make herself look good for Oberyn's brood, as Septa Mordane said.   
It was actually Quentyn that came to collect her. When Amelia sent him in at Sansa's request, she felt butterflies in her stomach. The Dornish climate wasn't the only thing warming to her.

  
He looked rather dashing himself. He wore a red doublet and had an orange cape which flowed out behind him which was fastened in the middle of his chest with the sigil of House Martell. His face had a certain glow to it, and his hair had been washed.  
"Princess, once again you have stunned me in the space of a day." He grinned.  
She giggled. "You look dashing as well, my prince. Is the feast due to start shortly?"  
He nodded. "The Sand Snakes and my uncle are almost ready, and so my father sent me to escort you down."  
Sansa sent Jeyne to collect the other girls, and they met up with Alyn on the stairs who brought up the rear. He was one of her father's guards who had sworn to be her own personal sworn shield. He still looked like he was wearing northern attire, and his forehead was sweating, but he didn't look dehydrated, which was the main thing.  
"My lady, if your parents seen you looking that gorgeous they'd be blown away!" He had gushed. She laughed at that, and liked that she had gotten on so well with him - ever since she was a child. She wondered if Alyn felt a bit alienated in this strange land on the opposite end of the country from the North, but his face didn't say he did.

  
In the main entrance hall to Sunspear, Arianne stood at the foot of the stairs, looking beautiful. You could actually see the faint outline of her breasts and stomach in the light gown she adorned, but that was just Dornish nature. She was willing to bet that Alyn was probably staring at them, whether discreetly or openly.  
"You all look lovely," The Heir to Dorne gushed, and she truly looked like a proud mother. "Last we heard, Oberyn and Ellaria decided to go at each other whilst the Snakes went and got ready, so only the gods know if they'll even show up within the hour."  
Sansa blushed when Arianne so casually mentioned the idea that Oberyn and Ellaria were most likely bedding each other at this very moment. It would certainly be frowned upon in the North - she couldn't imagine Robb announcing to half of Winterfell that mother and father were rutting, so openly. And yet Arianne was speaking about her own uncle like that in Doran's presence (and even Trystane's, but he looked too interested in a basket of cherries to be caring).

  
Nymeria and Sarella descended the stairs not long after, both looking lovely. Sansa wondered just who their mothers were. Nym was even adorning one of Elia Martell's bracelets.  
"Father says aunt Elia wore this a lot in her teenage years," the girl explained as she let Sansa examine it. A sapphire, emerald and ruby were definitely in it. "But then she had to move to King's Landing to marry the dragon prince, so left it behind."  
Oberyn eventually turned up, looking even more regal, as did Ellaria and all the other Sand Snakes. Dorea and Loreza looked adorable - they were wearing matching sky blue gowns that swirled out around them when they spun round. Even Elia looked beautiful - although Sansa noted that she would look nicer if she actually smiled properly.

  
They all entered the dining hall again and weren't even seated long before the food had come out. The main event of the feast was definitely the roast pork, which Sansa was surprised to learn was served on actual snakeskin. It thankfully wasn't hot nor spicy at all, which was good. She didn't particularly want her mouth on fire again.   
However, the stuffed peppers that came out after definitely contradicted.

  
She had just cooled her mouth down after her first bite of the peppers when Obara Sand got up out of her seat and made her way towards Sansa. She didn't quite know how to feel. Obara had greeted her nicely enough when she'd met her out in the yard earlier, but she wasn't as talkative as her other sisters. Also, she'd been making minimal talk all evening, and barely eating more than five bites of food - all with a glare on her face.  
"Lady Sansa, may we talk outside, away from all the chatter?" Obara asked, with a fake smile. Sansa pretended to look delighted and excused herself from Quentyn before getting up. Quent gave her a concerned look - maybe he was thinking the same as her? She gave him a reassuring smile to ease his worries.  
Obara linked her arm with hers, and rather quickly dragged her from the hall. All of a sudden, Sansa felt nervous. The woman smiled prettily, but most of the feast she wore a face as hard as iron.  
"I know why you're here," Obara said sharply. "You've been sent to seduce my cousin, and practically half the Dornish court considering you're dressed like that."  
Sansa prayed she didn't tremble. "M-my lady, I swear, this wasn't my intention-"  
"Don't give me that!" Obara Sand gripped her tightly. The woman's nails were digging in to her skin that much she feared she might bleed.  
She could feel tears in her eyes starting to form, but she would not let them spill. "It wasn't my fault! You have to understand, I was only briefed on this whole marriage before I was shoved on a ship and sent here, I don't mean any harm to any of you, I swear on the Old Gods and New!"  
Obara considered her for a small second. "You expect me to believe that?"  
"I only wished that I could get along with you all, your cousin included, and grow to love Dorne. That's all I want, after being treated so poorly by Joffrey." Sansa said sincerely, and swore Obara Sand's grip on her was easing.  
It fell into an awkward silence, but then the Sand Snake spoke softly. "Tell me what he did to you, that Lannister boy."  
"He hated me, he humiliated me, he embarrassed me in front of the whole court and wanted my direwolf killed. He's nothing but a vile and angry cunt." Sansa spoke quietly, looking down.

  
Obara Sand pulled her in for a hug. Sansa accepted it, very surprised. It was barely a minute ago that the woman was berating her. "I am so sorry, Lady Sansa, I didn't know."   
Sansa could feel one tear slip, but she prayed it would go away. Lady Obara kissed her hair, cheeks and mouth before smiling at her. "We don't hurt little girls in Dorne, you will be safe here."  
Sansa smiled at that, and thanked her, but then they both noticed that Elia Sand had come out of the Hall (presumably to get out the stuffiness of it). "What's _she_ doing here, Obara?" Elia sneered. For some reason, the girl couldn't stand Sansa, and it seemed she hated her the moment she met her, if the meeting in the yard just a few hours past was anything to go by.   
"You shut up, Elia, she means us no harm." Obara scolded.  
"Oh, what's she told you?" Elia strutted towards them, a tad arrogantly, and kept a hard look at Sansa. "That she loves us so? That's likely."  
"Elia, I only wish that we could grow to be good friend-"  
"-Oh ho, do you?" Elia Sand was not letting her guard down, it seemed.  
" _Enough_! You behave like such a little girl, Elia, are you sure you weren't lying when you said you started your moon blood?" Obara barked.  
 _That explains the temper,_ Sansa thought. _But then again, the Dornish are well known for being as fiery as their peppers._  
"Want me to yank my trousers down and show you how much of a woman I am?" Elia snapped.  
"There will be no need for that," another voice sounded, and Sansa seen that Ellaria Sand had now joined them. She was very pretty, and could see that Oberyn held her close to his heart. However, the woman looked at her daughter sternly. "Elia, how dare you treat Princess Sansa with such contempt, what has she done to you? The girl has suffered far too much in her short life, and only wants a better one here amongst us. You have no right to speak to her like that, so apologise this instant or I'll drag you back in there and take you over my knee in front of everyone!"   
Elia growled, but held her head high and looked Sansa in the eyes, "I'm sorry, Sansa, I have hard time trusting people."  
Sansa deemed her apology sincerely enough. "It's fine, my lady, I can understand your wariness." She even boldly gave the girl a small smile, which Elia shockingly returned.  
"I apologise on my daughters behalf as well, Princess, she's nothing like her namesake." Ellaria declared, before hugging her.

  
They walked back into the dining Hall together, and Elia even mustered up enough grace to pull Sansa's chair out for her. She thanked her, before Elia nodded and went back to her seat.  
Sansa glanced down the table between mouthfuls, and rolled her eyes internally when she seen Jeyne talking to Ser Daemon Sand, one of the handsome companions of Arianne, which would of been fine if Jeyne wasn't so openly showing her fancy for him. Eleanor was asking another household Knight how cyvasse was played, and blushed when the knight flirted with her saying he could teach her sometime. Jorelle Mormont, unsurprisingly, was deep in conversation with Elia Sand, who had warmed to her quicker than she had with Sansa, as Jorelle and her sisters were in to fighting and horses, which she had in common with Elia. Rhea looked like she'd been taken out her comfort zone. The girl was a Storm, and even though she was very noble on her father's side, fancy dinners with noble folk was almost the equivalent of throwing her in a deep swimming pool. However, she smiled and answered questions politely enough. During their three and a half week journey to Dorne, she had gotten to know the girl as well as her other ladies. Rhea had previously lived and served as a servant in her great-grandfathers castle on Estermont, where she was well loved, and had even been allowed to sit in on meetings due to her status as a King's natural daughter. King Robert had sent her name day gifts each year, as did her uncles (although she suspected they'd mostly be from Renly, as Stannis had never met her, whilst Renly had), and she loved her lessons with the maester as she was dead keen on history. Sansa suspected that her other ladies were quite wary with Rhea at first, as why would a bastard serve a very high born lady promised to a Dornish prince? But in the end, they all got on great with each other once secrets were spilled.

  
Prince Oberyn was probably the main entertainment that night, as after a few cups of Dornish red, he'd been telling anyone who cared to listen about his latest adventures. He was certainly the polar opposite of Doran, who was engaging in conversation enough, but wasn't one for getting drunk and telling stories and laughing until he was red in the face and knocking the table with his fists after telling japes.  
Prince Oberyn was in the middle of telling a story as to how he earned the alias 'The Red Viper' when Quentyn started to speak to her. "I hope our traditional peppers are to your liking, my Princess."  
Sansa pretended that her mouth wasn't practically burning (again) and replied. "It is lovely, my Prince, a lot more tastier than Northern cuisine."  
"Maybe one day I could be the judge of that." Her soon-to-be husband grinned.  
"I find it hard to believe that you'd ever want to travel up to the cold and dismal North and try out our cuisine, my prince." Sansa quipped, laughing, although it almost caused her to cough. The spices were tingling on her tongue and throat.  
"Oh I would. I have to meet my mother and father in-law _someday_." He replied, still grinning.   
Prince Oberyn then turned to her. "Princess Sansa, we heard the tales of your older sister whilst we were travelling."  
"Oh, about what she did at the tourney?" Sansa asked.  
"Yes. When we told Elia 'Look, El, a highborn girl has entered a tourney before you!' she was impressed. Some say that she unseated The Mountain to take vengeance on one of our own." Oberyn rambled.  
Sansa tried to comprehend, "I'm sorry, Prince Oberyn, but I don't quite understand.. Why would Lyanna take vengeance when she's never been to Dorne?"  
And then it clicked in her head.  
"Oh.. She unseated and tried to kill Ser Gregor.. So that-"  
"-My sister and her children may rest easy with their killer dead." Oberyn sounded sad. Nobody else had noticed though, the rest of the table was loud and cutlery was occasionally scraping from the plates, so nobody was paying them any heed. They weren't likely to for a while, as at the other end of the table, Alyn was dicing with Ser Daemon Sand and a few other Dornish guards, who were laughing and causing great entertainment.  
"What he did to them.. It must've been horrible, I can imagine your pain." Sansa didn't quite know if she was saying the right thing, as Oberyn's eyes looked glassy, and if he started crying she had no idea how she would comfort him.  
He was drunk, but not that much. "You don't know how happy I was when that raven came, the letter it carried, saying that the Lannister's were finally, _finally_ , being taken down. My girls were all for it, but the amount of times they kept pestering us to join our forces to others, I knew it couldn't happen until the time was right. When Stannis declared the Queen of regicide, I knew it was time. Your sister almost brought great joy to Dorne, and would've been hailed a hero in the eyes of our people if only she managed to get her sword through Clegane's skull. That's when I knew I could trust the honourable House of Stark, princess, and you have my word that you will never, _ever_ , come to harm in this country."

  
Sansa felt honoured, and touched by his words. Any mistrust or doubts she had about the Dornish were now gone. These people only wanted Princess Elia and her children to rest in peace.   
_And we will take the Lannister's, and all their mad dogs, down_. Sansa knew that in her heart. _There's far too many kingdoms against Joffrey and Cersei that the only thing they can hope for is a quick death._  
If it was up to her, Joffrey and his scheming evil mother would never have the mercy of a quick death, but very long ones. She knew that Stannis was known to be a just man, so maybe he would drag their deaths out to really make them suffer - mayhaps slow working poisons would work just a treat for the horrible lions.

  
But still, the Westerlands could muster about sixty thousand swords, which was quite a number considering places like the Reach could conjure up fifty odd thousand, and Dorne thirty thousand. But even with an army of sixty thousand, Tywin Lannister would still need more soldiers - and who knows, maybe he'd hire companies from Essos? If The Golden Company were really yearning to go home, the Lord of Casterly Rock could grant them that with all the gold in Casterly Rock. _Stop thinking about the Lannister's, stupid_ , she kept saying in her head. She was here, with the Dornish, feeling very much safe and happy.

  
When the delicious desserts came out, Sansa felt like she was in heaven. The soft sponge had a lemon tinge to it, which she liked, and to top it off, the lemon cream which was poured on top of it was delicious. It was nice and cool compared to the roasting meals that had been dished out beforehand, and was almost refreshing.  
Her Dornish prince spoke to her then. "Princess Sansa, it would be an honour if you would accompany me in to the town of Sunspear tomorrow, so you can explore the markets and buy whatever is to your liking."  
Sansa was delighted, and accepted. She couldn't wait to get to know her betrothed more. She was actually very thankful that her father matched him for her. Quentyn was everything Joffrey was not. He actually cared about her, and didn't seem to care about his future claim on Winterfell if he married her, as most boys and men would.

  
But there was still that small, evil part of her brain that was still damaged and changed by Joffrey's terror that was screaming at her, " _He wants you alone with him so he can hurt you, torment you, and break you. Hells, he might want to rape you, idiot girl."_  
She shook her head, as if to get rid of that horrible thought. Septa Mordane gave her an odd look down the table, and Sarella Sand mouthed an 'Are you okay?' at her, which she mouthed back a yes to. She hated the impact Joffrey had done to her - she was paranoid that Quentyn was horrible, when he really wasn't, all because the stupid Lannister boy had ruined her innocence.   
_At least, I hope he's not like Joffrey._ She thought.


	13. Lyanna

She was breaking her fast with Patrek Mallister, a boy two years her senior, when the maester hobbled in.  
"My lady, news from the capital." Was all the man said before scuttling away. Her uncle Edmure had headed out about an hour ago, giving her a brief explanation that he was going to deal with some brigands in a nearby smallfolk village who were causing grief. So technically, she was the Lady of Riverrun just now.  
She twisted the letter in her hands, so that the seal was facing her. It was a Baratheon seal, and her heart fluttered. _Oh please,_ she thought, _please say Joffrey is dead, please say that my family are safe._  
The letter read:

" _To Lord Hoster Tully, or whomever holds his castle._  
 _The tyranny of the Lannister's has come to an end._  
 _The Queen Regent, Cersei Lannister, has confessed to her sins of bedding her own twin brother Ser Jaime Lannister. Not only out of wedlock, but also passing off their children as King Robert Baratheon's, meaning that Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen are no true heirs to the Iron Throne._  
 _A council has been held, and it has therefore been decided that our new King shall be Lord Stannis Baratheon, the Lord of Dragonstone, as the line of succession would have happen. He has been anointed with the High Septon's seven oils, and had the blessing of the Red God of R'hllor. Those that oppose King Stannis's rightful rule shall find themselves being cursed usunder from here on._  
 _His Grace commands that all noble lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms travel to King's Landing - themselves or by missionary, it makes no matter, - to swear their fealty to the King and his Queen._  
 _Those who do not will be destroyed._  
 _You may have also learned that Ser Jaime Lannister managed to flee King's Landing on the morning my older brother died. Anyone who finds him and captures him alive will be rewarded with any castle in the Westerlands they so wish to have. Tywin Lannister may also be on the march any day now with all the westerlands at his back, but so long as everyone is loyal, we can defeat them together._  
 _King Stannis of the House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Azor Ahai come again."_

She showed the letter to Patrek, who didn't look pleased. "They say Stannis keeps a red woman by his side, who he spends more time with than his lady wife. She's a sorceress, I say."  
"And what does he mean by Azor Ahai come again? He doesn't fulfill the prophecy at all." Lyanna giggled, herself a bit baffled by the odd title the King held.  
"You didn't strike me as the type to read prophecy, my lady." Patrek quipped.  
"I don't, I stumbled upon it in a book once, though. It's stuck with me ever since." She replied.

  
She had to thank all the gods though, as Joffrey and Cersei were imprisoned, which meant that that simply vile boy and his equally vile mother would never get to unleash their tyranny ever again. She could remember the utter horror and disgust that Cersei Lannister had on her face when Lyanna revealed herself at the tourney, and Joffrey's howling laughter and rude pointing. And that boy had also done horrific things to Sansa as well. Lyanna remembered all too well the day that Joffrey had the butchers boy Mycah killed. Poor Sansa had to lie or risk Joffrey being made a fool, and in the end King Robert had done nothing as Queen Cersei ordered that Lady be sentenced to death in place of Nymeria, who had actually bitten Joffrey when he started attacking Arya, but Lyanna had actually anticipated that outcome herself. She had entrusted Rhaenyra, Lady and Nymeria to Harwin, who was hiding out in an abandoned manse with the three wolves, in Duskendale.

  
"I'll show my uncle this letter when he returns," Lyanna proclaimed, as she finished her food. Patrek bid her farewell as she left the room to drop the letter off in her uncles solar.  
She visited her grandfather again, for a little while. He spoke a little bit more than he did yesterday. Maester Vyman had explained as she came in that Hoster Tully was once again thinking back to the days of Robert's Rebellion, as the Lord of Riverrun had kept telling Vyman to call the banners the previous night and to urge Walder Frey to send troops to block Rhaegar Targaryen's forces from marching up the Kingsroad. The Maester had to tend to the ravens, so he left her to be alone with the old man.  
She spoke to him first before taking her hands in his. "It's me again, Lord Tully, your granddaughter. Do you remember me from yesterday?"  
She seen the man stir, and his creased face looked like it was trying to think. "Child.. Hands so soft.. Wait for me, little Cat, I'm going south.."  
 _His mind is failing him severely,_ Lyanna thought sadly. _Thinks he's a man in his prime, still thinks there's Targaryen's to fight.._  
"I'm Cat's daughter, my Lord, - Lyanna, I am. You held me once. Me and my twin, Robb." Lyanna murmured softly. Her aunt had also held her and Robb after their births, but Lady Lysa had handed them back in tears as she had failed to conceive Jon Arryn a child. She left that bit out though, there was no point in telling him that. There's no point in telling him anything, Lyanna knew in her heart that Hoster Tully would never remember her tomorrow, but it was good to spend some time with him, the man she never really knew.  
"Lyanna.. Tansy, Tansy!" Lord Hoster had raised his voice a bit.  
Lyanna was quite confused - who or what was tansy? "My Lord?"   
"Tansy! Forgive me, Lysa, oh please.." Lord Hoster's blank eyes then opened, but she suspected he couldn't see her. It was then that one of the man's shrivelled hands went to her long hair, took a hank of the dark brown locks, and just held his hand there. His Tully blue eyes, although probably weren't seeing, were focused on that bit.  
What on earth did her aunt Lysa have to forgive Hoster for? Was Tansy a woman who the Lord of the Riverlands had taken to bed and married? Was Tansy a whore her grandfather had hired to warm his bed after the death of Lady Minisa? For all Lyanna knew, this Tansy could be her step-grandmother.  
"My Lord, who is Tansy? Shall I send for her?" Lyanna assumed that Tansy was a person, not an object.  
"No.. Lysa, my daughter.."  
"Lady Lysa is in the Vale, my Lord." She spoke.  
"Tell her.. I beg for forgiveness.." The old man spoke quietly. "For Petyr.."  
Lyanna felt a shiver go down her spine. Why was Lord Petyr Baelish coming into this? Had the man tried to marry Lysa in the past but was refused by Hoster?  
Or had Baelish done something more?

  
Maester Vyman entered then, the door opening bringing Lyanna out of her thoughts. "Maester, he spoke of a Tansy." She said it before she could comprehend.  
Vyman looked confused. "Tansy? I've never heard him say that before."  
"He spoke as if it was a person called Tansy, but it could be a tansy flower he was meaning. I know it seems horrid to ask, Maester, but after my grandmother died - did Lord Hoster keep any other.. Lady companions?"  
If the maester was shocked by her question, he didn't show it. "As far as I'm aware, no." He paused. "He loved Lady Minisa, my lady. When she died, he was grief stricken, as were we all. She would have liked you, lady Lyanna, and all your other siblings and cousin."   
She smiled at that. She had asked her own mother about Minisa Whent when she was slightly younger, and lady Catelyn had always said that she had a kind smile and warm hands.   
Vyman gave Hoster Tully the milk of the poppy, and he fell asleep within an instant. She said farewell and went down to the slightly empty yard, where she could practise her sword work.  
She had used a training dummy that was placed under a sheltered canopy near the stables. When she drew her sword from its scabbard, a few of the stable boys that had been lurking and staring at her scurried back to work as soon as her sword loudly clashed with the stuffed target. She payed no mind to anyone that may have been staring, for she always did when she fought.  
She only wished that Edmure would hurry up and finish his business with the village folk, as the sooner he got back, the sooner she could leave. She would be sad to leave Riverrun, as her grandfather was clearly dying a slow death, but she had to get back to her twin and her other family at Winterfell, by her father's instructions. _As far away from Lannister's as possible._ Ned Stark had put it. _Chaotic times lie ahead._  
She wondered just how her father was doing, in Duskendale. She hoped he and mother hadn't gone back to King's Landing, as even though Stannis had officially taken over, there could still be stout Lannister supporters waiting on the road to attack them. Hell, the Rykker's might even be Joffrey supporters, and would have the power to arrest her father and mother and Arya if they caught wind of the plan. Lyanna knew it would be folly if she rode to Duskendale to see them, but she had half a mind to do it if it came to that. She couldn't bare the fought of them getting taken.

  
Just as the stuffed dummy had at last partially fallen apart due to all the harsh blows she laid on it, did the drawbridge roar to life. The gates opened soon after, and Edmure rode through the gates with his chosen entourage. He waved when he dismounted, but she could tell that he wasn't an overt fan of her holding a sword.  
"Did you sort the brigands out, uncle? Are the village folk safe?" She asked as she fell in beside him.  
"Aye, they'll live. The brigands were a sorry sort, they tried to charge at us. None of my men died at all, and the brigands were firmly killed." Edmure explained as he handed his sword to his squire.   
"I left a letter in your solar. It's from the new King." Was all Lyanna said.  
Edmure Tully looked a bit confused. "Stannis?"  
"Who else? It didn't say much. Just explained the situations and exposed the Lannister's." Lyanna replied.   
Her uncle didn't look pleased. "Tywin Lannister will no doubt start a war to save his daughter and grandson."  
"And if he does, the lions will be vastly outnumbered - unless of course you flock to him."  
Her jape didn't lie too well with her uncle. _Lighten up, fool._ She thought. _You'd never last long in the north if you took every jape so seriously._  
"You may be my niece, who I love very much, but do not make mockery of me. Tywin Lannister may stand alone in this coming war, but do not underestimate him. He's already made two houses extinct, whose to say he won't do that with us?"  
 _The Reyne's and Tarbeck's were hardly Great Houses though_ , Lyanna thought, but kept her mouth shut, _and they only had control of their mines and small lands, not whole kingdoms_.  
She changed the subject, "I plan to leave for Winterfell within the next hour or so."   
Edmure nodded. "So I heard. Are you and your men almost ready to go?"  
She nodded. "I told them to pack yesterday."  
"I'll be sad to see you leave, Lyanna. Give my regards to your mother and your other family. Have you visited your grandfather since yesterday?"  
"Yes, I visited him earlier. I doubt he recognises me, but it's nice to see him after all these years." She left out the bit about the mysterious Tansy, and Baelish. But she knew that Maester Vyman would probably ask him about it later.  
Edmure nodded. "I wish you well on your journey, but are you sure that it's wise to travel the roads, with Jaime Lannister on the loose? And his brother, the Imp?"  
"I have my escort to help me," Lyanna replied. "And if he chooses to fight me, I'll give him a fair fight. King Stannis said that he's offering whoever captures Ser Jaime alive and brings him to the capital the choice of any castle in the Westerlands. Just so happens, I've always wanted Casterly Rock. It has a nice ring to it, _\- Lyanna Stark, Lady of Winterfell, Lady of Casterly Rock_." She japed at the end, and knew without even looking that her uncle was looking thunderous again.

  
Her uncle emerged a few hours later, as Lyanna and the rest of her northern companions were mounting up. Their belongings were all safely locked away in their chests and contained in the wheelhouse that travelled behind the main group but still had guards stationed around it. He still looked jolly, but he was still angry at her japes earlier, it seemed.  
He hugged her as he approached her. "Farewell, my lady. Send a raven if you're ever in trouble, or if your brother needs any advice."  
She smiled at him. "Thank you, uncle, I'll be sure to. Give my thanks to Maester Vyman, he was ever helpful during my stay. Thank him for the work he does with your father too."  
"I will do, my lady. Safe travels." He finished. The household of Riverrun waved goodbye to her as she urged her horse to walk forward, her men following suite. She shouted a final farewell as she was about to go on the lowered drawbridge. She seen Patrek Mallister waving from the ramparts, and he was shouting down as well - wishing her good fortune. She said the same to him.  
As soon as they rode past the smallfolk camped outside the walls, who were all gathered and cheered as she went by, she urged them all to canter. She wouldn't have their horses galloping for long periods of time, as it meant that they'd have to stop and water them more. It also allowed her to take in and admire the scenery more - it didn't look so blurry in a canter as it did a gallop.

  
It was well into the night when they finally reached the Inn of the Kneeling Man - where one of her ancestors King Torrhen Stark had bent his knee to the first Aegon. The inn was thankfully not busy at this time and so all her escort found rooms and stables for the horses. The innkeep, however, wasn't too happy to be awoken at this time of night, but didn't argue when she realised who Lyanna was, and ushered her to have the best room on the top floor. The room wasn't exactly fancy - just a double bed, a warm hearth, a tub, and a writing desk, but it served well. Even more better was that there was no bed mites nor fleas in the bed (she checked herself).

  
That night she dreamed various dreams. A girl with auburn hair and blue eyes was surrounded by vipers that bowed and called her queen. The girl was then wed to a sun.   
Then the dream changed. She now seen a mummers dragon being worshipped whilst a burly man handed him a rippling sword as a gift. It changed again, and she seen a lone ship out to sea with a smiling man on its prow, looking excited. But then the ship was swarmed on all sides and a dark kraken engulfed the ship. A woman with dark hair and haunting eyes smiled as her short blonde husband kissed her upon a moving castle that meandered in a swamp. A boy no older than ten-and-six gave his seed to a girl as slim as a rose and and as fair as summer. A boy in black kissed a woman in furs beneath an icy wall. A stag fell to its death after a dark force swarmed it. A man with no skin was hunted down by many types of men in a snowy setting. A young girl with curly blonde hair giggled as a young boy offered her flowers as a favour. A wild young youth was hand in hand with a slightly older girl with a stony outlook, the lad drawing a sword to threaten a swarm of fire that appeared from nowhere. On and on the dreams kept changing.   
A smoke grey wolf was chained to a kraken, a skinned man, and another who the skinned man called Frey. The wolf snarled and screamed to the entertainment of the men, but then the snows came and a blade as dark as night came crashing down on the chains, freeing the wolf, who slayed the three men who previously held it captive. A cheering crowd whopped in delight as a girl with silver hair rode by on a horse. A wild girl looked out to the shores of the Sunset Sea as another young lad admired it from her side, kissing her. A swarm of ravens then flooded the dream, screaming " _Snow, Snow!_ " And _"Bloodraven!"_  
And finally, a voice spoke to her. "Lyanna. Send your brother north of the wall. Brandon. He will find me there. I can teach him his destiny."  
She was still asleep, but her mind seemed to speak. "Who are you? How are you communicating with me?!"  
"Do you know the riddle?" The voice asked.  
"What riddle?!" She was confused.  
The last thing she heard before she woke up in a cold sweat was, " _How many eyes does Bloodraven have? A thousand eyes, and one."_


	14. Littlefinger

  
He sat at the base of the Iron Throne, and was listening less and less to Stannis's speech as it drolled on for what felt like centuries. His Grace looked very powerful and mighty upon the seat of kings, as Robert once did (before the man got fat). But Petyr Baelish was an observant man - and he knew that Stannis Baratheon wasn't entirely comfortable upon the throne.

  
His eyes scanned around the room - it was a wonder how so many people were able to fit into the throne room. Highborn and lowborn alike were gathered, and Baelish noted that many of them were giving Stannis untrustworthy looks. The elephant in the room was of course the big question that many of them were thinking - what had happened to King Joffrey? The vicious boy was what Baelish called a bad asset - but he was still a King, and would be unless Stannis or Renly ordered the boy's death.

  
Baelish also wondered where on earth Ned Stark was. Renly had said that he had urgent business at Rosby, but if that was the case why was Lord Gyles in attendance? He would find out where Lord Stark was - he found out everything.

  
Court also seemed a lot duller without the Stark's. Not somber Ned, but his daughters. Baelish was especially taken with his two oldest ones Lyanna and Sansa. Sansa looked so much like his dear Catelyn that the girl made his heart flutter everytime she smiled or looked at him, but Lyanna.. She was very much like her father and although she didn't have the Tully look, Baelish desired her. The girl had turned many heads at court - he remembered the first night of the Hand's Tourney, where a feast was held for all nobility, and how everyone vied for Lyanna's attention. Baelish even noted all who danced with her - Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, Ser Loras Tyrell, her betrothed Renly Baratheon, Tyrek Lannister, Edric Dayne, Ser Theo Frey, countless others... Some Dornish archer even had a turn with her, as did the irritating Jalabhar Xho. She was ever so beautiful, out shining her sisters, and whenever she smiled the room seemed to light up. She had even taken a leaf out of her namesake aunts book and had blue winter roses woven into her hair, despite her gown that night being orange (she hadn't been kidnapped by a prince though). If only Lord Stark and his daughters had stayed in King's Landing long enough, he might've been able to use them to his advantage..

  
Stannis's speech had finally come to an end, and the throne room was quickly dispersed of people. Tanda Stokeworth and her sheepish daughters stayed back to wish King Stannis good fortune in his reign and that they'd be looking forward to Queen Selyse and Princess Shireen's arrival to court. Stannis looked like he'd rather be doused in cold water than be seen with the rather ugly Stokeworth's, but to his credit he was courteous enough. Gyles Rosby managed to choke out a good luck before almost succumbing to his whooping cough, which almost caused Renly to burst out laughing at his older brothers irritated reaction.   
A relatively young boy, who Baelish figured to be Devan Seaworth - King Stannis's squire, jogged into the throne room, a black cloak billowing out behind him as he tried desperately not to look tired, despite his red face.

  
"A letter for you, Your Grace, Grand Maester's page said it was urgent," Devan puffed out, before handing Stannis an unopened letter. He couldn't make out the sigil.  
His Grace took the letter unsmiling. Renly looked anxious. _Aha, must be more chaos_ , Baelish thought. Maybe it was from Tywin Lannister - the Lannister's might finally be declaring war to get Cersei and Joffrey out of prison. It was then that Petyr almost forgot about Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen - maybe they were imprisoned too.   
Stannis opened it, and grinded his teeth audibly.  
"What news, Your Grace?" Varys asked, looking plump and unnerved from across the counsel table.

  
It was silent for a few moments, but then His Grace looked thunderous. "Ser Jaime Lannister has been sighted making towards Duskendale with a small force."  
Baelish wondered why on earth that was of major unrest when Renly gasped. "That means.. Lord and Lady Stark! They must be warned immediately!"  
"I thought Lord Stark was at Rosby on urgent business, my Lord? Or are you scheming behind mine own back?" Baelish decided to test the waters.  
"He was. But what he's in Duskendale for is none of your concern as master of coin, Lord Baelish." It was Stannis who answered. _This man despises me_ , Baelish thought gleefully.   
"And why would Ser Jaime be after him?" He tried again.  
"No doubt he's heard the news about his sister and son." Renly commented. "But if he tried to attack Lord Stark... We cannot allow that to happen. Robb might declare war if his father got hurt."  
 _And I would love that,_ he thought, _Stark against Lannister._. Now that will foil their plan.  
"Tell the Grand Maester to send word to the Rykker's immediately - with word to have a ship ready for them to depart on if Ser Jaime comes knocking. Lannister cannot be allowed to enter Duskendale." Stannis commanded. Devan looked as though his entire life depended on this message getting relayed, and so scurried back out the throne room as soon as he nodded.

  
He was rather surprised the next morning when he entered the counsel chamber and seen Lord Renly sitting in the place of the King.  
"My brother had urgent business upon Dragonstone, Lord Baelish. He has left the city under my rule." Renly answered when Baelish posed the enquiry to him.   
"Tywin Lannister could be on the march any day now, and yet he's left the capital already. I'm assuming this business does not concern me as master of coin?" He asked. He could see Renly smirking. _You think you're so sly, my Lord, but little do you know that a notion is going to be put into your head._  
"If Tywin decides to march on King's Landing, he'll find himself being encircled by thirty five thousand stormlords - plus six thousand Gold Cloaks. Besides, we would have heard if he was gathering his banners already." Renly, as pompous as ever, declared.   
"Perhaps word should be sent to Highgarden as well," Baelish quipped. "an extra fifty thousand would be beneficial to us. And you'd get to see your _friend_ Ser Loras again, Lord Renly."  
That last comment did not lie too well with Lord Renly, it turned out.


	15. Margaery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story seems to be progressing a bit slowly, but don't worry, it will pick up pace soon :)

Highgarden was in full bloom today, it seemed. The skies were virtually clear, and the harvests were in full bloom. It was also so hot that she was practically overheating in her thin yellow gown, which was supposedly perfect for summer weather.  
As she rode through the town, about to do her daily love of mixing with the common folk, Margaery didn't ever think she'd tire of this. The townsfolk cheered as she went by, and came swarming as soon as she dismounted.   
"Lady Margaery, these people may be dangerous!" Her handmaiden tried to tell her over the crowd.  
Margaery merely shrugged, "Wounds can be healed."

  
Her first port of call was to a nursery, where tons of children were running riot. When she stepped into the main area where the children and some of their parents were gathered, she tried to desperately ignore the sound of a woman giving birth from down one of the corridors. The woman who owned the nursery came to meet her, and explained how the place was run, and claimed that they were running low on funds to keep it running.  
Margaery took sympathy. "No need to worry, my lady, as I would be honoured to lend you some money. The impact of this place shutting down would be a damaging blow to all of Highgarden's next generation, and so on the morrow, I will deliver two hundred thousand gold dragons to you."  
People started cheering, and her heart warmed as the owner looked like she was about to cry with happiness at Margaery's generosity. A little girl as young as six even tapped her on the knee, and Margaery bent down to talk to her.  
"What is it, my sweet?" She asked softly.  
"Thank 'ou for bein' so k-kind to us, Lady Marg-eery. This is our onlee home." The girl said, in the sweetest voice ever. The girl giggled as Margaery picked her up and kissed her on the head.

  
She wanted to spend hours in the nursery, but she begrudgingly left to the loving goodbyes of the children, and went to her next port of call - one of the bakeries. She was to make her own batch of bread and tarts, which the bakery promised they would name in her honour and sell. She thought it would end with her getting superbly messy, but it didn't. She made forty loaves of bread in total and almost a hundred small tarts, which were predominantly custard. She had even asked for paper copies of the recipes they'd used to make them, so that she could get the cooks in Highgarden to make some and hand them out to the poorest who wouldn't be able to buy them. The bakers were supremely chuffed and said yes.

  
Her days work done after quite a few hours, Margaery located Loras who had been sent to retrieve her and they both rode back to their castle.   
"Were you baking today, sister? You smell like you have." Loras asked.  
"Certainly. They're selling the things I made in my honour as well, how nice is that?" She gushed.  
"Very. Oh and father said that you're to meet in his solar as soon as you get back. It's something important." Loras explained, before they raced each other to the gates.  
As she walked to her father's solar, all the servants said hello to her, which she was delighted about. _If your people love you, they'd do anything for you_. Margaery thought.

  
The guards at her father's door opened them as soon as they seen her striding forward. She thanked them before stepping in. She was surprised to see Elinor, Alla and Megga, her cousins, already there.  
"Ah, daughter! There you are, come in and sit," her bubbly father said. She smiled and seated across from her cousins, who were eager to see her.  
"I was told we have important things to discuss." She inquired.  
Mace Tyrell nodded. "Certainly. It's very important, and I think you will love the idea, Margaery. You are to be betrothed to Robb Stark, the son of Lord Eddard Stark, of Winterfell."

  
Margaery's smile faltered a bit. Winterfell was a very long way from Highgarden - hundreds of leagues, and the North was cold. The people were supposedly a bit ragged and wild as well. She had heard rumours about Robb Stark through her other highborn friends - he was supposedly very handsome, kind, and honourable like his father. And he was also apparently excellent to his people.  
 _I wonder, does he mix and mingle with the common folk as well as nobility?_ Margaery thought. If he did, then they already had one thing in common. If he didn't, she could easily convince him to..  
Margaery put on a big grin. "Tell Lord Stark I accept his proposal, father. I cannot wait to meet him. When do I leave?"  
Made Tyrell looked like the happiest man on earth, although more a happy oaf than a happy Lord. "Simply superb, Margaery! I knew you'd accept it! My my, you could leave as soon as the sun rises tomorrow, if you'd wish?"  
"I'm afraid I'll need more time to pack and prepare, father. Plus, the commoners will surely get worried if I just up and leave, and so I ask your permission to at least have two more days to spend with them, just so I can let them know and say my goodbyes. I want them to be well supported in my absence, and let them know that I hold them all very dearly in my heart." She explained.  
Her father looked a bit taken aback. "Oh, yes, of course they'll be given of food, protection and money, as you wish. I will send Lord Stark our acceptance of his proposal at once."

  
She had almost forgotten about her cousins. "Father, will El, Agga and Megga be coming with me? They can serve as my ladies in waiting."  
Elinor answered, "I have to stay and marry Alyn Ambrose, remember? We are very sorry, Marg, but we cannot go with you to Winterfell."  
Margaery was a tad affronted. She turned to her father. "So that means it'll literally just be me going on my own to a different kingdom, with no friends?"  
"Lord Robb has sisters, they'll make your feel welcome enough." Was Mace Tyrell's excuse.  
"Can mother or grandmother at least go with me? Or Garlan and Leonette?" She was desperate at this point - she knew she'd have to try her hardest to get used to the north when she eventually arrived there, but she would rather do that with a southern friend by her side. What if the northerners didn't warm to her? What if they looked down on her? It was also common knowledge that southerners didn't do well north of the Neck - which didn't bode well in her favour.

  
"I will write to your grandfather Leyton Hightower in Oldtown, and see if any of his brood will be willing to accompany you. I would write the Florent's, but I trust them as far as the Stark's trust the Boltons, and Randyll Tarly's daughters are surely too young for such a journey." Mace Tyrell decided, and that seemed to be final. She was about to get up and leave when something seemed to spark in her father's head - an idea of some sort. It lit his face up - as if he just discovered the answer to an impossible sum.   
"Father, what is it?" She urged.  
"Oh my dear, I've just had the most splendid idea!" He guffawed, and paused before carrying on. "Send Loras in, my dear, - he shall go with you too, yes yes, for I propose that he should marry Lyanna Stark, their eldest daughter!"  
"But I thought Lyanna Stark was betrothed to Renly Baratheon?" Megga looked confused.  
"Oh no no, after the Hand's Tourney, Renly broke the engagement somehow. Perhaps she's more man that he ever will be, ha! But anyhow - your brother will be going with you, darling." He grinned.

  
Margaery couldn't help but feel annoyed as to how naive her father was. He had chosen to ignore the glaring fact and rumour that Renly and Loras were in an intimate relationship, and how he seemed desperate to quell the gossip. _Poor Lyanna Stark_ , Margaery thought, _betrothed to one uninterested man, and then to that same uninterested man's lover._

  
Loras emerged from their fathers solar a short while later, and Margaery was a tad confused by the fact that he looked jolly. "Looks like we better pack, brother, for we shall be journeying to Winterfell within the week."  
That caused Loras to stop and give her a baffled look. "Pardon?"  
That in turn caused Margaery to be confused, "I'm to be married to Robb Stark, and you're to marry his twin, Lyanna?"  
Loras started laughing. "I talked father out of my marriage proposal. Instead, I'm going to be staying in the south."  
"Why?"  
"I'm going to serve in King's Landing, with Renly." Loras stated.  
 _That will either be the end of you, or him_. Margaery thought bitterly. _It seems I will be alone in Winterfell after all._


	16. Young Griff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a serious SPOILER WARNING for those who haven’t read up to A Dance With Dragons in the ASOIAF series. If you’re not aware of who Young Griff is and want to find out via the books, I highly advise you don’t read this chapter yet as I reveal who he is pretty early on. Read this chapter at your own risk.

  
Ser Rolly's sword came up quickly. The glint of the steel caught the sunlight, and blinded him for a nanosecond, but he still blocked the blow. He had to use quite a bit of strength to try and push Rolly's sword away, but once he did, quickly disarmed the knight by striking the tip of the sword as quick as a snake, so that it flew out of Duckfield's hands.  
The knight seemed unbothered. "That was good."  
" _Good_? That was the skill you told me to practise, and I succeeded at it, but all you say is that it was 'good'? What am I to make of that?" Aegon replied, a bit disheartened.  
"Fine, it was quite good."  
At Aegon's glare, Ser Rolly chuckled. "Is that what you want, to have your enemies say how good you lay your blows before they die? Does every man you come up against have to say it?"  
"No, I'm not that desperate." Aegon huffed. "I just thought I deserved better praise, for I learned it quickly."  
"You learn everything quickly, my King." Ser Rolly said before taking a gulp of water.  
"Do you mind keeping your voice down?" Jon Connington barked from the front of the poleboat. "You will not be referring to him as that when we reach Norvos, is that clear, Duckfield?"  
"There's nobody around here, father." Aegon replied, coming to Ser Rolly's defence. "Nobody heard him call me a King."  
"How do you know there's nobody hiding behind those bushes, lad? If our enemies spies heard that title they'd go scuttling off to tell their masters of their suspicion. Nobody can know who we are yet." Connington answered, a bit sharply.

  
Aegon didn't like how on-edge his 'father' was ever since they left Pentos. He'd gotten very prickly in his nature and was always cursing the dye he had to wear in his hair. Connington had gotten stricter than he usually was (which was saying something), as he was always criticising rather than being lenient, the latter being what he used to be when they had just left Pentos. The closer they got to Norvos, the more sharp-tempered Jon Connington got. _He doesn't mean to be angry,_ Aegon had convinced himself, _he's just worried_. Whatever this quest entails, it must be important, else he wouldn't have me doing lessons practically every hour of daylight. He hoped so, anyway.

  
Jon Connington wasn't really Aegon's father - Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was, though. But Aegon's princely father had died on the Trident, so he'd never really known him as Aegon was only a newborn when Robert Baratheon's war hammer came crashing down on Prince Rhaegar's breastplate. Connington was more of a surrogate father, although he'd only taken care of Aegon for a while, as Magister Illyrio had kept him sheltered in his palace (and at times in his other estates when he had other people staying) for years. He missed the fat cheesemonger sometimes - he was always friendly, jolly, and up for telling stories. He'd given Aegon anything he wanted (except the Seven Kingdoms). He wondered why on earth Illyrio had sent them onwards to Norvos. Apparently the magister had informed Connington and all the others of the reason why, but everytime Aegon asked, they didn't tell him. It frustrated him. Not even Septa Lemore, nor Yandry nor Ysilla, would inform him. He'd even attempted to eavesdrop on Connington and Yandry once, but that failed spectacularly when he managed to creak a floorboard. He'd gotten some telling off from Connington that day. Hell, a week ago Aegon had even encouraged Ser Rolly to get extremely drunk, as he thought that if he'd gotten him in his cups enough, the knight would let everything slip and not even remember saying it the next day. But yet again, Connington seemed to have magical ears, as he came storming into the cabin and clouted him behind the ear, saying he'd get even more than that if he dared to try and get information about the journey again.

  
So naturally, he didn't try that again. But surely it wouldn't be long before he learned the truth? Norvos was in their sights as they meandered up the Noyne. He could see it from the prow. It looked great in the morning sun.  
All he wanted to do right now was to relax, as he'd been training with Rolly all morning, but no such luck. Haldon wanted him to focus more on his map reading, geography, and navigational skills, so summoned him into the cabin, where a long desk was set up and a huge map of the whole world was spread out across it. Westeros really did look tiny compared to Essos. _Maybe one day, once I'm secured on the Iron Throne, I can conquer Essos too?_ He thought it would be nigh on impossible, but a boy could dream.

  
"Right, let's focus more on this Kingdom of yours, lad." Haldon began. He got out his long cane and pointed to a location somewhere in Dorne. "What House does the castle of Starfall belong to?"  
"The Dayne's." Aegon replied, expertly.  
"How many Dayne's are there in Dorne?" Haldon Halfmaester asked.  
"There are the Dayne's of Starfall and there's the Dayne's of High Hermitage, the latter being a cadet branch." Aegon reeled.  
The cane moved further north. "Tell me of the Fossoway's."  
"The red apple Fossoway's reside at Cider Hall, the green apple Fossoway's at New Barrel. The Fossoway house words are 'Taste of Glory'. They're sworn to the Tyrell's of Highgarden." Aegon recalled all he could. That went on for another half-hour, with Haldon constantly moving the cane to different locations. Aegon got most of them spot on, the only problem being that some castles and locations were placed near borders, so it was hard to tell if they were part of one region or the neighbouring one, but he learned from his mistakes.

  
He walked back out on to the deck again, and wished they would get the _Shy Maid_ to go faster. He was intrigued by Norvos, and although only the tall structures and buildings were able to be seen from the tiny poleboat, he imagined it would be spectacular to see once they got up close and entered it.  
"How come we're the only ones on the river, father?" Aegon asked Jon as the man walked past, carrying some belongings. He seen a scroll peeking out of his shirt pocket, which made him wonder what on earth was written in it.  
"We're entering via the back ports, lad, as it's far less noisy to get in from the back of the city than the front. Once we're in, we'll be safe enough, as the person we're meeting has arranged for people to escort us to her manse." Connington explained.  
"And just who are we meeting?" Aegon tried.  
"You'll find out. You ought to get cleaned up and look presentable." Connington didn't buy his sly attempt to reveal anything, and slightly sulking Aegon went back down to the cabins to get himself washed.

  
He emerged, feeling fresh, a short while later. His hair had been redyed, and not a single strand of silver hair could be seen. They were edging closer to Norvos, and he could see the gates up ahead. _Row this damned thing faster, Yandry!_ He thought, _So that I can discover the real reason why we're here quicker!_

  
They eventually found themselves in front of the back gates, which were guarded, and the gap beneath it looked a tad low. Above the gates was a bridge, which seemed desolate.  
Haldon was the one schooled in languages, so he spoke for them. Aegon had been taught many languages himself, but the Norvosi tongue was slightly difficult to understand. He could only recognise one word for every ten Haldon said.

  
The two pale-skinned guards that were guarding the gate replied to Haldon before the gates growled to life. He realised that on the bridge above, were people controlling the opening and closing of the gate, and it took ten of them to haul it open enough for them to pole the _Shy Maid_ through the slightly narrow gap. As they sailed through, Aegon was mesmerised by the longaxes the guards were holding - they were as sharp as needles and looked like they could cleave a man's head off his shoulders.

  
Jon came up behind him, "We're almost there, lad. Don't lean on things, stand tall."  
Aegon hadn't even realised that he was leaning on a few of their luggage crates, but corrected himself sharply. Connington nodded and walked off.  
As they slowly meandered the boat more up the slow-running river, on both sides of it were many different buildings. He could see some other boats anchored up ahead, and so he knew that they were rowing up a canal rather than a river. Even above the tops of the buildings around them, Aegon could see the upper part of Norvos, where the nobility and the rich lived. The lower part was dedicated to the poorer folk. The simply massive Sinner's Steps, which was the stone bridge that connected the upper part of the city to the lower three hundred feet below, could also be partly seen. _I bloody hope we aren't climbing that,_ Aegon thought.

  
They continued up the canal until they went around a bend and chanced upon a slightly larger longship, whose captain shouted out to them. Haldon simply shouted something in the local tongue and the people on the other ship ushered them to follow.  
"Are they the people the person we're meeting sent to get us?" Aegon asked Septa Lemore, who looked lovely with her hair half up and half down.  
"Yes, Your Grace, we will arrive at our destination shortly." The kind woman smiled.

  
He scanned his eyes to the buildings situated along the waterfront. Beer halls were open and in full swing, as some even had loud music flowing out of their doors - two drunk men were swinging each other around to the tune of the music. Brothels were also common, and Aegon couldn't help but look as a man was rutting a woman quite openly and noisily down an alleyway, the woman's breasts bouncing. He really hoped he wasn't growing hard, as Ser Rolly and Yandry would never let him live it down.

  
It seemed to take another decade before the people on the longship signalled that they were to turn left soon. Haldon also said that they would be taking anchor in less than five hundred yards after the turn, and Aegon got excited - they'd be meeting the person soon.  
They gave the longship plenty of room to get around the sharp left turn before they turned left behind it. It went quite smoothly, but he wished they'd turn less sharply - as Aegon had almost been knocked off his feet.  
Within half an hour they had come to a stop, and were walking to the palace of whomever they were meeting. Aegon had just stepped off the _Shy Maid_ when Jon and Ser Rolly stepped forward, looking guilty.  
"What's wrong?" Aegon asked.  
"You are not to be seen, my lad. We hate to do this, but you have to wear a bag over your head until we reach our destination. You will not balk, and will do whatever is asked of you. Do you understand?" Jon said to him.  
Aegon did balk at the idea. "No! I will not wear a bag on my head! How will I be able to see where I am going? This is madness I tell you. Madness! Nobody will recognise me, father!" He knew he sounded like a spoiled young child, but did they think him that much a fool? Did they think he was going to proclaim to any Norvosi that cared to hear that he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell? He'd always kept his identity to himself.

  
Jon Connington got strict with him. He grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him close so he was practically growling in his ear. "You will do as your told, lad, or you might just lose your kingdom. Your father wouldn't be pleased if he could see you now, disliking the simplest idea of wearing a bloody bag on your head for barely a while. Now come along and compose yourself. And if you decide to make a scene and scream your displeasure, you'll be getting sent back to the boat and will have to wait hours for us to return. Get your act together."

  
Aegon felt a bit sad at Connington's comment - he always disliked it when Jon wouldn't approve of things and would say Prince Rhaegar wouldn't be proud of him. _I will make you proud though, father,_ Aegon vowed in his head, _I'll claim Westeros back under the Targaryen name, and honour you and mothers memory._  
Ser Rolly gave him a sympathetic smile as Connington walked away to talk to Ysilla. It turned out he was the one putting the bag over Aegon's head. "Don't worry lad, it's not totally dark under there. I'll guide you."  
With a grumble, Aegon obliged, and the sack was over his head in an instant. Duckfield was right - he could still see out of small gaps down by his chin. Rolly's arm was also on his left one, and he spoke to him all the time. They set off almost within the minute, and off they went, to whomever was waiting for their audience.  
Aegon was a tad displeased he wasn't going to be able to admire Norvos's beautiful architecture as they walked, but Duckfield told him about all the sights as they journeyed.

  
"Just passing the building with the Three Bells now."  
"More bloody wharves."  
"Four beer halls side by side. Booming trade."  
"Ahh, an armoury."  
"Now _that's_ a palace."

  
"Are we bloody there yet?" Aegon snapped after Ser Rolly had gave a running commentary of what a R'hllor Temple looked like.  
It was Connington who answered. "We are at her steps."  
He heard a large door creaking open, and Duckfield told him to lift his feet. When he had taken a few more steps, he could tell that they were now inside - his feet made sound on the marble floor.  
He heard a door shut behind him, and thought it was too good to be true when the dreaded bag was finally taken off. When his eyes adjusted to light again, he took in his surroundings. The palace's ground floor looked to be all marble - the floor was that clean you could almost see yourself in it, but just as easily slip. The walls were decorated in some artwork and of some Norvosi tapestries, depicting what he guessed was historical events.  
Jon Connington looked pleased - whether from the fact that Aegon had kept mostly quiet the whole journey under his bag, or just that they had gotten inside safely, he couldn't tell. "This way. She awaits us upstairs."  
"She?" Aegon pressed.  
"All will be revealed." Was all Connington said. Aegon shrugged, and they climbed up the winding staircase - past the first and second levels, but they were led to the third level.  
The palace guards motioned for them to follow once more. Yandry was beside Aegon (the staircase was wide enough for two people to walk abreast), and the orphan of the Greenblood looked cheerful.  
"This woman will hopefully help us in your cause, my King." Yandry said.

  
The guards let them into what looked to be the woman's audience chamber. It was a large enough room to be one - a round table was set up and looked like it could accommodate up to thirty or more people around it.  
The Norvosi guardsmen said something in the local tongue, and Haldon translated it back. "She will be with us in just a moment."  
They were all left on their own at that point, and it seemed they were unsure about whether they should sit down or not. They didn't have to ponder long, as a door opened behind them, and the woman entered.  
She was very graceful looking, although she looked quite old. She had a tanned complexion, her hair was quite short and tied in a knot behind her head, and she moved briskly.  
"Welcome, my lords and ladies, I trust you got here okay?" She also spoke the common tongue of Westeros.  
"We did, my lady." Jon Connington replied smiling, and they took their seats the same time she did.  
"Would you like some refreshment? I'll have some cider brought in." The woman said before summoning a slave to fetch them their drink.

  
After the drinks arrived and were poured, they got down to business.  
"It's strange to find such a plain group of people in Norvos. And you said you required help for a campaign? I'll warn you, if you're here on behalf of Myr, Lys or Tyrosh I'll be sending you out - I'll not be getting into any more of their petty wars." The woman asked.  
"We are not of the Free Cities, my lady." Haldon replied.  
"No. I can tell you're Westerosi by your lovely septa. Why are you and your son disguised so vibrantly, my Lord?" She was now gazing between Jon and Aegon.  
"So that nobody finds out the truth." Was all Jon said.  
"Hmm. I see." Aegon looked up then, and met her eyes, although quickly diverted them. If this woman turned out she couldn't be trusted, she could not see his eyes - for the light hitting them might display their true colour - purple.  
"It turns out I have news from Westeros." The woman said randomly. Aegon raised his head a bit too eagerly, but was desperate. "King Robert Baratheon is dead."

  
Aegon got the chills, and then he felt gleeful. _The man who killed my father is dead,_ he thought, _my father can rest in peace, for his death is avenged!_  
Jon looked a bit pleased. "How did he die?"  
"A boar managed to gut him during a hunt, I heard. His wounds were treated, but he died anyway. It also turns out his children are not his children - they're Cersei's children all right, but their father is her own twin, Ser Jaime Lannister."  
"That's vile!" Yandry exclaimed.  
"An abomination!" Duckfield muttered.  
"She has sinned in the sight of gods and men," Septa Lemore proclaimed. "She must be punished severely for her acts of incest and lying about her children's father."  
_Have they forgotten my ancestors on father's side married brother to sister for centuries?_ Aegon thought. Although the topic of incest made him uncomfortable, it was a Valyrian custom - and he was half Valyrian himself.  
"How is it you know so much about Westeros, my lady? If you don't mind me asking. You barely sound Norvosi." Jon asked suddenly.

  
The woman smiled. "Did the cheesemonger not tell you who I was when he sent you on your way to this city?" When they shook their heads, she tutted. "My name is Mellario, of Norvos."  
Aegon was confused when everyone else gasped.  
Then Jon said, "Mellario.. By the gods, you're Doran Martell's wife!"  
Aegon then spoke up before he could even think. "You're my aunt, by law!"  
The sudden tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Jon looked like he wanted to skin Aegon alive, and then he realised - she wasn't to have found that out yet. He wasn't to have said anything.  
The woman watched him with a hard glance, as if she was trying to comprehend. "Pardon? What did you say lad - I'm your aunt?!"  
"The lad forgets himself, my lady, apologies." Jon said politely, but then his eyes turned back to Aegon's. _Shit, I'm probably going to get into massive trouble for this,_ he thought.  
"Take him outside, Duck."  
Ser Rolly was looking apologetic once again as he took Aegon's arm and went to stand up. The woman stopped them though.

  
"Wait!"  
He didn't want to meet her eyes, but all it took was a glance. Her chair pushed back slightly, as if she had just gotten a fright, and her hand covered her mouth.  
"Oh my.. The eyes.. You _are_ my nephew!"  
Aegon didn't know if he should say something - briskly deny it or confirm it, - but he couldn't seem to find words.  
"How can this be?! The Mountain smashed your head against a wall all those years ago?!" Mellario's eyes were as wide as saucers. She couldn't take her eyes off him.  
"Varys swapped me for some other newborn baby from Pisswater Bend, he placed him with my lady mother-"  
"- _Outside_ , son!" Jon was seething.  
"There will be no need for that!" Mellario of Norvos said desperately. "The boy is my own blood, my good sisters son. The King's secret will be kept with me, my Lord, that I swear on my children's lives."  
Aegon awkwardly sat back down, as did Rolly.

  
It was silent for a minute, as if Mellario was speechless. Her eyes looked glassy, as she kept taking him in. Then she said, "You'd be a few years older than my Quentyn.. Gods, why didn't they send you to Dorne?! We could have kept you safe in hiding, raised you to be a King.."  
"I've been taught how to be one, my lady. All these great people have helped me, as has Illyrio." Aegon replied.  
"Pardon me, my lady, but why did you leave Dorne to come back to Norvos?" Ysilla asked.  
"Oh gods, it was something stupid. My husband, the prince of Dorne, he wanted Quentyn to be fostered with the Yronwoods, the second most powerful house in Dorne - who are untrustworthy. I disagreed with Doran, he disagreed with me, and I left in protest. I didn't even say goodbye to the children, which still haunts me." She sounded as though she was going to cry any second.  
"It is good you came. It is good we now know the truth of each other. I know why you're here - I'm one of the most powerful people in Norvos, and I could raise the city in support of you. That can most certainly be arranged." She paused. "And that I will do. If I could, Aegon Targaryen, I would crown you as the Sixth of Your Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men right here right now, but we still must be discreet. We do not have enough support to declare ourselves just yet. But I swear to you, - all of you, - that I shall help you in your quest to take back Westeros. For Rhaegar's sake, and Elia's, and Rhaenys's.. I swear on House Martell. We shall be Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken."  
She paused again, and said the next words more quietly, as if she was going to break down crying. "Vengeance, justice, _fire and blood_."


	17. Lyanna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So later on in this chapter I bring in a certain theory (H+A=M&J). If you dont know what I'm meaning, feel free to look it up, there's good explanations of it on both Reddit and A Wiki of Ice And Fire (as well as the forums). If you know what I'm talking about, feel free to read, but please be warned that just because I bring certain theories into this story, doesn't necessarily mean that I believe in them myself, it may just be that I think they'd be interesting to have in this fic. I know it's a bit of an unlikely theory canon wise but I like it aha please don't hate me x

They rode out from the Inn of the Kneeling Man at dawn the next day. When she had woken in a cold sweat from her dreams that night, she couldn't sleep after, and so had spent hours lying awake just staring at the ceiling - thinking about the voice that had reached out to her, and what her visions represented.

  
She had tossed and turned, but no matter how many times she had closed her eyes, if she fell asleep it wouldn't be for long, and she'd always wake up with a start. Her moon blood had also came in the night, which annoyed her, but it would be manageable.  
As they rode out, she couldn't stop thinking about the Bloodraven riddle. What on earth did it mean? Who had talked to her in her dreams? How did they know her little brother? Where was she to send Bran to so that this person could 'teach him his destiny'? It fried her brain.

  
They were ten leagues away from Fairmarket when one of the wheels on the wheelhouse came flying off with a loud crack, and so they had to come to a halt. Thankfully they always had spare wheels, but the wheelhouse was very heavy and there was only fifteen of them in her party. Lyanna personally dismounted and helped with the change of wheels - she and eight others lifted the wheelhouse up just enough for the others to attach and screw the wheel into place. After a few double checks, they were off again.

  
They stopped to have an afternoon meal in the town of Fairmarket, and found an inn which was rather aptly named _Saera's Cunt_ (it was wide as well as large), which she suspected was named after Saera Targaryen, the daughter of Jaehaerys the Concilliator and Good Queen Alysanne who fled the Seven Kingdoms to become a whore in Lys. As they were tying up their horses and watering them, Lyanna summoned Fat Tom and told him to tell four other people in the escort to wander around and to discreetly learn any news from the kingdoms. He done so, and the four men he picked said they would only need an hour, before leaving.

  
Once she changed the guards on the wheelhouse, she and the others stepped inside the inn and found seats in the common room. Lyanna ordered her own food and drink and sat in a booth with Fat Tom and a boy from Wintertown (whose father worked in Winterfell) called Pate. The others were at tables across the room.   
"Do you think we'll reach Winterfell within the month, Tom?" She asked him after she had a spoonful of the pea and ham hock soup, which was nicer than it looked once salt and pepper were added to it.  
"So long as no hard rains or storms are approaching, aye, I think we will. I went with your lord father to the Neck once, and it only took just under three weeks. I'd say we're about nine days from Greywater Watch." Fat Tom replied.  
She was satisfied with that answer, but it only made her yearn more. She couldn't wait to get back home again, and see her siblings, especially her twin Robb, who she missed tons. She couldn't wait to see Bran walking again, and she promised Rickon she'd teach him how to ride a pony when she got back too, so there was a lot she'd have to look forward to when she got back to Winterfell. Maybe from here on they should gallop their horses instead of cantering? It would certainly speed them up. She would decide that when they were mounting up again.

  
The four men Tom had sent exploring returned just as Lyanna had an extra bowl of the soup. They must've done a good job at listening and being discreet, as they had learned a few things. Smallfolk had been flocking to different villages, towns and cities as there was claims of brigands 'burning the Riverlands', and how women and girls were being raped and carried off by these same brigands. _Edmure went to deal with brigands the day I left Riverrun,_ she tried to piece it together, _could they all be part of the same network?_   
The other reports were quite insignificant, but were useful. The Bracken's and Blackwood's were unsurprisingly at each other's throats again - this time over a land dispute of a mill which was unfortunately partly on the Bracken side of the border, and partly on the Blackwood one. Lord Jonos Bracken insisted it was more on his side (if it was, it's incomes were his), whilst Lord Blackwood argued the same thing on his side, and in turn it was causing tension for the workers of that mill - who were mostly from Bracken and Blackwood lands. It was common knowledge that every Blackwood had Bracken blood, and vice versa for Bracken's, but no matter how many marriages between the two houses commenced, it would never change their bitterness for each other, it seemed. _Thank the gods I ain't one of them._

  
The common room of _Saera's Cunt_ got more lively as time went by. Eventually Pate congregated over to the other men in the escort who were dicing and gambling with each other (and being loud about it), and Fat Tom wanted to be excused to join them as well. She let him do that, but instructed him not to let the men get too drunk as they would be setting off again in the hour.  
So now Lyanna had a whole booth to herself. She rather quite enjoyed her own company, but she would have liked to have joined the men in their dicing. She felt so tired and groggy, probably from her bad sleep the previous night, and it didn't help that her red flower was blooming. She didn't even care that her eyes were drooping and sleep was slowly overcoming her.

  
Only this time she didn't dream of visions or potential prophecies - she was in Rhaenyra's skin.

  
This had happened before - she didn't know how she did it, but she'd managed to warg into her smoke grey direwolf when she was asleep - once when she fell asleep in the wheelhouse when she was travelling with her father and sisters to King's Landing, and the night before the Hand's Tourney. Neither times had lasted very long, and all she did was investigate smells and experience freedom through Rhaenyra's eyes, but she oddly liked doing it. Plus, it gave her reassurance that Harwin was looking after her well - she hoped it was the same for Nymeria and Lady too, who she'd also entrusted to Harwin.

  
In Rhaenyra's skin, quite a lot was happening.  
She could hear and see horses and men all around her. In the distance, the wolf could hear people screaming, and smell burning more than anything else. She jumped a bit when two men came jogging past her, both smelling odd. She bared her teeth, but then stopped.   
Loping ahead in between the column, she found a small hill which she used as an advantage point. As she got to the top of the hill, a flock of gulls went flapping away, and the whites of some rabbits tails went scurrying back down their burrows. Any other time and she would have hunted and tore their juicy and meaty bodies apart, but the wolf didn't care.  
The men on their horses and men on foot marched past her, some giving her odd looks. They were talking, but she could smell their unease.

  
One of her sisters came out of the undergrowth beside her - the grey and white one called Nymeria. Her sister often went away hunting, ever since their white and pretty sister went away somewhere to the far south. Their other siblings were elsewhere - she could still sense them sometimes. Three of their brothers were still at the castle their masters lived in, whilst their albino brother was further north.

  
The long column was only about a hundred men, who were all equipped for war. Long sharp swords were in their scabbards and some men carried large bows. Rejoining them, some of the horses started to plant their feet and shy away, and some men were cursing and shouting, but they wouldn't do anything.  
Something in the further forest to her right caught her scent, and she heard the sound of something being torn in to. She halted, crouched, and listened more. Meat was being torn, and it was then she knew that something was eating its kill. Her sister followed her by crouching, and they struck at the same time.  
Bursting through the green, they pounced and came upon an ordinary wolf. Its jaws and paws were covered in blood, and it's teeth too. When it seen them, low growling came from the smoke greys mouth, - the more dominant of the three - to warn this stranger wolf to step aside even though it had made the kill. It was pack rule.   
The beast didn't obey straight away. Instead, a small fight broke out between them, the grey sister standing aside. It didn't take long for the smoke grey to pin the outsider wolf to the ground. It yielded after that.  
The kill was a young doe, who was a light brown colour and looked juicy. Her meat was also delicious. She'd eaten a good few mouthfuls before leaving the rest to the outsider and the grey.

  
They rejoined the humans, only to find shouting and the sound of men and animals dying.   
From somewhere behind, men had came upon the group, with yellow and black banners flapping. The people in yellow far outnumbered the men the wolves were with, and some were even riding towards them.   
A black destrier came thundering upon them, it's rider bearing a silver sword. The two sisters growled and snarled, their hackles tense on their back. She ran and leaped at the horse, and sunk her teeth into its flanks. The horse went tumbling sideways to the ground, screaming in pain, but it's rider tried to slash at her, and maybe would have got her if her grey sister hadn't of also leaped at him. Both horse and rider were dead, but more were coming.

  
It was all hectic. She leaped at more men in yellow, and some were even wearing red and yellow suits of armour with helmets shaped like lions. She knew these were bad men.  
She then ran and jumped at a horses neck and caught it right in its neck artery, blood bursting everywhere. Her more fierce grey sister was killing any man she didn't recognise, and had managed to shatter a horses leg with its jaws. An arrow almost got her, but she spun round at the last second and the man's arm was ripped off.  
It seemed to be forever before, somehow, the men in yellow and red dispersed, screaming of victory and how they would return soon. The smoke grey wolf knew that something bad had happened, for they couldn't find the young man who had taken care of them.   
They eventually found him, knelt over a man's dead body. The wolf realised that more than half of their men were dead, thanks to the men bearing dog and lion banners. She could see some of their bodies - their blood running in to the grass and soil.   
She nudged her wet nose against the man, and he sniffled and had a thankful look on his face. Scanning her eyes, a lot of the men were wounded - someone's arm was half cleaved off, blood pouring out, and they looked to be near death. More were gathering around them, and they spoke. She could hear them clearly now.  
"The Mountain will be back soon, Harwin, we need to keep moving."  
"We have to find Lord Beric and Thoros."   
"Lord Beric is in no state to be fighting if we find him, the man's already been dead once. And whose to say we'll survive the next wave of fighting? We have to go."  
Harwin was dragged up, wiping his face of tears.

  
Some men started pointing at the smoke grey and her sisters. "Those wolves.. They ain't ordinary. I seen that smoke grey one tear down an entire warhorse and kill it."  
Others had differing opinions. "By the love of R'hllor, why on earth do we still have these beasts, Harwin? What if they were killed in that fight, hm? How would you explain _that_ to Lady Lyanna and her sister?"  
"I don't trust them, my Gran once said that direwolves are abominations and have no place with humans. I'm inclined to trust her judgement - they're ferocious." Some meek sounding boy proclaimed.  
"We should put them to death." Some man said. "Queen Cersei had the right of it, I say, although she is a Lannister - how long before these beasts start getting hungry, what if they savage our horses? Or ourselves?" He looked straight at them and drew his sword.  
"Put that bloody sword away, Cletus! Lyanna assigned me their care, and that I will do until my dying breath - for the Stark's." Harwin snapped.  
She started growling lowly in her throat, and bared her teeth at those who were giving them untrustworthy looks. Some young boy near pissed himself.  
"How about setting them free, Harwin?" Some man suggested, "The Brotherhood without Banners is no place for two direwolves. They may go off and hunt themselves, but we can easily lose them if we're not careful. Some legends say they're smart and intelligent creatures - tell them to go home, and see if they will?"  
"Do they know their home is Winterfell, hundreds of miles north?" Harwin sounded doubtful. "It'll take them ages to get back. Hells, Lady Lyanna might even be returned, and wondering where on earth her direwolf is.."  
"It's the best thing for them, Harwin. The horses are petrified of them, especially when they come bounding out the bushes covered in blood and guts, and some of the boys and men are scared shitless of them too. There are other wolves around these parts, maybe they'll lead a pack?" The same man said.

  
The boy Harwin turned to look into her eyes. He stroked her fur before making his decision. "Rhaenyra, Nymeria, you two will have to find your own way back, okay? Go to Winterfell. _Winterfell_. Do you remember it? Go there, back to your lady owners, and spend your days with them. Go quickly, before I change my mind."  
The smoke grey knew what to do, and her sister did too. With one last farewell, they loped forward and went bursting northwards, for home. She knew where she had to be - with the human she shared such a strong connection with.

  
Lyanna was harshly pulled back into reality when she felt someone shake her shoulders. She leaped backwards, and when she opened her eyes, _Saera's Cunt_ 's common room was quiet, and Fat Tom was standing beside her. Her Winterfell men looked a tad shaken.  
"M'lady, you fell asleep, and you howled." Tom explained.  
"I was in Rhaenyra's skin," she said a bit quietly.  
An old woman and her husband on the table across from her were seen praying to gods. She couldn't understand why.  
"You are a warg, Lyanna, did you know that?" Fat Tom looked a bit amazed but also a bit put off. "I've done it a few times," she admitted. "but they never lasted long. I was in Rhaenyra's skin though, and I seen Nymeria too. Harwin is still with them, but he's part of some brotherhood now. The Mountain attacked them though, and some Lannister's, I even fought them. They left about sixty men dead. But Harwin.. He's let Rhaenyra and Nymeria go, he set them free to go back to Winterfell on their own."

  
The innkeep didn't look too impressed as she listened, and let them have ten more minutes in _Saera's Cunt_ before she ushered them out. Lyanna could understand - not many people liked the idea of a warg, as in ancient times they were disposed of. Probably by jealous people.

  
After a week, they reached the boggy marshlands of the Neck, with the wheelhouse still intact. She sent some men scouting, and it took them two days to reach the general area Greywater Watch was in. But all they really had to do was raise the Stark banner, and the crannogmen came forth to escort them through the bogs. Some of her Northmen looked down on the crannogmen, as she could hear them sniggering behind her. Words like 'bog devils', 'mud men' and 'Frogeaters' were uttered, but all she had to do was turn in her saddle, glare her icy glare, and they stopped. She was more intrigued by the crannogmen than she was prejudiced. She could never hate a race of people she barely knew.

  
Once or twice the wheelhouse got stuck and it took virtually all their efforts to push it out of the swamps. Curses were uttered, they heaved, and soon enough they budged it free. The crannogmen helped her back on her horse. She spoke to a few of them as they went. It was hard to see them as adults - they were as short as pubescent boys, their arms were skinny, and their legs were like twigs. Only their voices and beards marked them as men.

  
They found Greywater Watch when the sun was just starting to set on the eighth day. When it came into view when they were a league away, as if on cue the direwolf of House Stark was unveiled on a banner that flew above the lizard-lion sigil of House Reed. She was touched - she knew she could count on the Reed's as her father still did, and that she would be welcomed with open arms here.

  
As they rode closer, they were informed that they would have to take the rest of the journey to the moving castle on foot, as horses could easily break their legs in these swamps and mires. She didn't mind that, although some of her men protested saying that the crannogmen had no right to order Eddard and Catelyn Stark's eldest daughter to walk through bogs and ruin her fine clothes, but she told them to shut up. Her escort could really get on her nerves sometimes..

  
The walk wasn't even particularly difficult - the crannogmen who knew these swamps like the backs of their hands guided her, and informed them where deceiving quicksands were so they wouldn't find themselves being engulfed anytime soon. As they walked, Lyanna realised that there were people living in the swamps - some on little meagre huts that had strong foundations, some in small hovels, and rather creepily some lived in the forest and trees. She could see their faces poking out of bushes and glancing down at her from branches of massive oak trees. The ones that lived in the trees looked almost akin to monkeys from Essos. Some children came out of the hovels and just stopped and stared at her. They were even smaller than baby Rickon - who was almost four. One who she assumed was a teenager for his boyish voice couldn't have been taller than Bran.   
"How come the castle isn't moving today, my lords?" She asked the crannogmen escorting them.  
"We anchored it today, my lady, so that we could actually get to it." One of them replied with a cheeky smile.  
As they got closer, Greywater Watch seemed to get bigger, but when they were finally in front of it it wasn't as big as it looked. Some of her men muttered that it was as malnourished as the bog people, which she disagreed with.   
The man who she assumed was Lord Howland Reed emerged from the main entrance. At his sides were what looked to be his two children - her father had said their names a few times, as Howland often wrote to him and Lord Eddard sent them name day gifts every year. She tried to remember their names..

  
"Lady Lyanna, what an honour it is to finally meet you." Lord Reed was a handsome man, there was no denying that, and he was a bit taller than some other crannogmen, but he looked a bit weathered.  
"Well met, Lord Reed. My father speaks highly of you." Lyanna replied, cheerfully. She dismounted her horse and smiled as Lord Howland kissed her knuckles and cheeks. "These are my two children, the lady Meera, my eldest, and Lord Jojen, my son."  
Meera, although short, looked to be her age. She was as slim as a twig, but was graceful and looked cheery to be in her presence. Jojen looked to be about twelve years, but he looked wiser beyond his years.  
"My wife Jyana couldn't wait to meet you, lady Stark, but she hasn't been able to leave her bed all day due to stomach pains. She prays you'll forgive her." Howland explained as they crossed the planks that had been put out for them to get from the banks onto the crannog upon which Greywater Watch stood.   
"That's a shame, my Lord, but some things are unavoidable. Give her my well wishes, and if she needs any potions or medicine for the pain, I have some on me in my wheelhouse." Lyanna offered sincerely.  
"We have no maester here, so I'm sure my lady mother will be grateful." Jojen smiled.  
That took Lyanna back a bit - the Reed's had no maester?' Who on earth tended to their ravens, looked after their messages, and taught the children? Surely Lord Howland didn't do everything himself?

  
Some of Lord Howland's crannogmen showed her party to their rooms, although they only had two of them and it meant they'd all have to share. Some protested, and Lyanna snarled at them, which shut them up. Lyanna's own personal room was in between Jojen and Meera's - it was slightly cramped, but she didn't mind that.

  
For supper that night she endulged in a stew of carrots, mushrooms, diced potatoes, a nice juicy stock. The main ingredient was lizard-lion, the animals native to these parts of the north. The meat of them was rather nice and succulent, and the Reed's were delighted that she approved of their typical food. That night was spent in joyous conversations, as laughs were had, and Lord Howland told stories of the past, some of which involved her own Lord father, her uncle Benjen, and her namesake aunt Lyanna. Howland said that she even looked like her aunt, and somehow after that he seemed sad. But his mood picked up again as he told the story of how he met lady Jyana. She was at the Tourney of Harrenhal - a popular lady among the Knights that vied for her favour, and danced with many men. "Yet somehow, it was me she looked to, can you believe it! Plain old me, a bog devil from the Neck, herself a highborn lady of an ancient line of both First Men and Rhoynar, choosing to mix and mingle with the likes of myself. To be fair, it was partly down to your father, uncle and aunt that we met, as your other uncle Brandon brought her over to us." Howland Reed explained jovially.   
"Mother didn't care about you being a crannogman, father, she loves you for who you are." Jojen said aptly. Meera agreed with her brother.  
"Yes, yes, I suppose." Howland then leaned closer to Lyanna. "Although we both tried explaining that to her parents, and they were horrified when they learned who I was!"

  
For some reason, Lyanna didn't think that lady Jyana was in bed plagued by stomach pains - a part of her was telling her that Lady Reed didn't want to be seen. Howland said she was highborn - assuming far more noble than he was, - and that she was a Dornish woman with the blood of the First Men and Rhoynar? She knew all the Dornish houses, and tried to rattle her brain as to who this mysterious lady could be..  
It was after the supper, when Lyanna was in her assigned chamber writing letters to her twin, father, and mother, when a knock came at her door.  
She flattened her skirt and glanced in the mirror to make sure she didn't look a state before opening the door. It was Lord Howland.  
"My lady, I must speak with you." Was all he said before he stepped into her room and gestured to her to bar the door. She done so.  
"What is it, my Lord?" She smiled, a tad nervous. Had he had a letter from the capital? Had her father been hurt? Was her mother alright?   
"My wife and I talked at length before you arrived. I did lie to you tonight. She isn't in bed with stomach cramps." Howland looked ashamed somehow. "Lady Jyana.. Isn't even supposed to be alive."  
"My Lord? What do you mean by that?" She asked gently.  
"Just call me Howland, please," he insisted, before continuing, "Your father is like a brother to me - Brandon and Ben and Lyanna as well, they accepted me and honoured me beyond belief despite everyone looking down on people like me. They're my hypothetical family, and you're like the niece I've never had. If I can trust Ned with my life, then I hope I can trust you with mine as well, Lyanna."   
She was honoured. "You can, Howland."  
"Then come with me and meet lady Jyana. And don't mention this to anyone." Howland Reed pleaded with glassy eyes.  
"I swear on my family's life and my sword that your secret will be carried with me to my grave." She said honestly. The Lord of Greywater Watch looked like he was about to cry with gratefulness. "That's my girl," he said. He took her arm and walked with her.

  
It didn't take long before they were outside what she assumed was Howland and the mysterious Jyana's bedchamber. Meera appeared, and all she said was "Jojen is with mother, he had another dream again, father."  
Howland nodded, and opened the door for them. When the room came into view, she seen Jyana - but she had her back to them. The woman's figure was like an hourglass, even after two children. Her hair was long, sleek and dark, which was surprising considering Greywater Watch didn't have much to offer. Lyanna could hear her talking - her voice sounded young somewhat, and angelic. She was sitting in a chair and had Jojen on her lap, the wise boy that had the wisdom of an old man looked small and vulnerable, almost like a child.  
"What's wrong with Jojen?" She asked Meera, shocked at his weak state.  
"The dreams affect him sometimes, my lady. He gets the shakes after them if they're bad," Meera answered. "Mother comforts him though, and he appreciates it. Although she hates being half scared to death." She chuckled at the end.  
Jojen looked at them, his face covered in a layer of sweat, and said something to his mother. It was then that lady Jyana's face was revealed to her.

  
 _By the gods, her eyes... Surely not, she flung herself from the Palestone Tower all those years ago, after birthing a stillborn daughter.._  
"Lady Lyanna, you're as beautiful as they say, ten fold." Lady Jyana Reed, - or rather, - Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall, grinned, her haunting violet eyes glimmering in the torchlight as she gently placed her son down and hugged her in greeting. 


	18. The Princess of Dragonstone

  
The Princess was feeling great after her morning lesson with Maester Cressen. Although it was only her, as Devan was with her father in the capital and Patches was surprisingly nowhere to be seen, she enjoyed being in the company of the ancient but wise Maester.   
Dragonstone was a whole lot more duller without her father and his few retainers who had went to the capital with him. The Onion Knight, Ser Davos Seaworth, still stuck around, but he barely had any time to talk to her as he had many duties as Hand of the King.

  
In fact, the only time when Dragonstone wasn't dull was when the Raven came - everyone was gathered in the airy dining hall for breakfast, and cheered superbly loudly when Maester Pylos announced that her father's imprisonment of Cersei Lannister and who she thought was her cousin Joffrey had been successful and that he now sat the Iron Throne. Shireen had been happy that day - she now had the official title of Princess. Ser Davos looked like the happiest man on earth that day, and he raised a toast on behalf of Shireen and her mother, which made her grin. Davos's oldest sons - Dale, Allard, Matthos and Maric, had all knelt before her and talked about how great a King her father would be. Although the four boys were a lot older than her, they treated her like their little sister. She loved them for that. They were far more interesting and polite than Patches was, and they didn't say creepy riddles either. She was sad that they were away a lot on their ships, as she was lonely without them. She had told her mother one day that she missed them, but all Queen Selyse Baratheon had to say to that was "Those boys hardly have any time to spend with you, child. They're nothing but up jumped lowborns, and why would they want to spend time with a deformed little girl like you anyway?" That had only made her more sad.

  
When she told Patchface about it, the boy seemed to listen, but he ended up saying "Under the sea, crowns all sink. I know, I know, oh oh oh.", which had ended up creeping her out.   
She sat in her dank little bedchamber which Visenya Targaryen had slept in many hundreds of years ago, reading her books about the Targaryen's. She had just got on to an interesting segment about the sad story of Helaena Targaryen's suicide after the deaths of her three young children when a knock came at her bedroom door. She opened it, and her mother and lady Melisandre were there.   
"Princess, may we come in?" Melisandre was nicer than her mother, but Shireen got the shivers every time she seen the red woman from Asshai. She nodded politely and let them enter.  
Her lady mother looked as hard as stone as she sat on the edge of her bed. She glanced at the open pages of the book Shireen was previously reading and rolled her eyes.  
"Child, your father has now been crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms. Do you know what that means?" Melisandre spoke.  
"It means that mother is now Queen and I'm the princess of Dragonstone." Shireen hoped that wasn't a trick question.  
"Very good. And do you know the duty of a Royal princess?" Melisandre posed another question.  
"Well, when people come to court, it is my job to make them feel welcome, and befriend nobility to strengthen their families ties to the crown." Shireen paused to think more. "And I must always obey my father and mother as they are King and Queen."  
"There's more to royalty than just that, child." Selyse Baratheon grimaced in her usual cold tone. "When you're older, you have to marry. And after that, you produce children for the Baratheon line to continue."  
Shireen had not forgotten that part.  
"Why are you two here?" She was starting to get suspicious.  
"Your father is now the King, and before the coup, he brokered an agreement with Lord Eddard Stark. You are to marry his youngest son, Rickon, when the boy comes of age." Selyse stated in an icy tone.

  
Shireen wasn't surprised. "Oh."  
"That's all you have to say, 'oh'? You should be on your knees thanking the Lord above and your father for finding a boy roughly in your age range. If it was up to me, you'd have been married to an older boy - one of the Bolton's or what not. If that was the case, then we wouldn't be waiting years and years for you to be old enough to consummate, but now that you're to marry that wild wolf pup we will be waiting years. The boys barely four years old." Her mother barked. Shireen wasn't bothered though, her mother was always angry with her.  
"I am happy, mother. When do I meet him?" Shireen asked.  
"The seas are far too stormy for us to risk any ships being struck, and it would be a disaster if you met the same demise as your grandfather Steffon and grandmother Cassana. No, you will be going to Winterfell within the next few weeks. Your father insists." Selyse replied.  
"Who will all be coming with me?" Shireen dared to ask. She prayed that her mother wouldn't be, else she be miserable the whole time.  
"That is yet to be finalised, princess." Melisandre answered this time, staring into her soul. "Your mother's family, the Florent's, is quite extensive. Your cousins may join you as your companions, and you may be assigned ladies in-waiting yet, once we decide."  
Shireen liked that idea. She apparently had a bastard cousin called Edric Storm, who her uncle King Robert fathered on her mother's cousin Delena Florent. This Edric was apparently only a few years older than her, and was well liked by the people of Storm's End. Delena had two other children - Alester and Renly Norcross, who were probably as young or even younger than her betrothed. She only prayed that her cousin Rylene Florent wouldn't be coming - she had recently turned two-and-twenty and was the most stuck-up cow of a woman Shireen had ever met. Shireen saw the good in people rather than the bad, but she couldn't help but think that if Rylene came with her to Winterfell, there might be a sharp increase of people jumping off the battlements intentionally.

  
Melisandre and her mother stayed with her for a few more minutes, her mother giving her a detailed explanation of what she should bring to the north and also what would be expected of her. Selyse also done nothing but talk lowly of the northmen and especially Shireen's betrothed, Rickon. The youngest Stark clearly wasn't her mother's choice of a son by-law. As the two were leaving her to at last be back at peace reading her histories, Melisandre turned to her.   
"Princess, will you be joining us on the beach tonight for prayer?" The mysterious woman asked. Shireen knew that they would be burning another person tonight - all in the name of the red God R'hllor, or the Lord of Light. Many of the people on Dragonstone had converted to the religion ever since Melisandre had arrived. Shireen wasn't one of them though. Every few nights she could hear them at dusk, down on the shores, chanting and praying as people burned to their deaths on the stake. She couldn't sleep some nights because of them.  
When she politely declined Melisandre's offer, her mother gave her another scorned look. "One day you will see the light, child. One day I will drag you and make you pray. The Seven are false gods." Selyse declared.  
 _Any god that requires people sacrificing their lives to burning is no god, more a monster_. Shireen thought when they finally left her to go back to reading about Helaena Targaryen. 

Almost two weeks later, her father arrived back in Dragonstone newly crowned. As his ship came rolling into the Dragonstone harbour, the whole island went up in whoops and cheers. The smallfolk (few as they were) bent their knees on the beach as a way of showing respect. As he marched towards them, his cloak billowing out behind him and his demeanour screaming power, they systematically all bent their knees as well. He ushered them back to their feet after barely a few moments.  
Stannis Baratheon made a speech to those gathered on the beach about his hopes and plans to make Westeros prosper again, from the lowest gutter rat to the highest nobility. At times Shireen couldn't really hear him because of the wind, but she was happy either way. Once that was done, he came over to her mother and her. He said "my lady" politely to his wife in welcome, and he gave Shireen a pat on the shoulder. Her father was never really affectionate, but the Princess of Dragonstone could feel the love in that single pat more than she ever found in her mother.

  
Her father planned to spend another week on Dragonstone, as now that he'd be in the capital, the whole court needed to be rearranged. He'd left her uncle Renly as the castellan of the Red Keep whilst he was away, and he hadn't been overly confident in his youngest brother for some reason.   
On the sixth day, she was having supper with her father, Melisandre and her mother when Davos Seaworth came bursting in.  
"Begging your pardons sire, Your Grace, princess, but Alester Florent had received this and said it was urgent." The Onion Knight looked awfully distressed.  
"Why are you here and not my uncle then, Ser Davos?" Selyse asked with a hard glare. Shireen never understood why her mother didn't like Ser Davos - he was a loyal man, and he adored Shireen herself like she was the daughter he never had.   
"Quiet, woman." Stannis muttered.  
All that could be heard in the room for a few moments was the wood in the fire cracking, but then her father grinded his teeth and stood up to look out the window.  
"What is it, father?" Shireen dared to ask.  
"This hardly concerns you, child." Selyse Florent eyed her cooly.   
"Why does news always arrive here so bloody late?" Stannis snapped.  
Even Ser Davos looked worried. "Sire, what news does the letter bear?  
"Ser Jaime Lannister entered Duskendale, found Lord Eddard in the streets, and captured him after killing his men. Buts that's not bloody all - Tywin Lannister is marching to the capital with a large bulk of the Lannister army at his back." Stannis barked.  
"We must sail back to the capital immediately, sire. Ser Jaime and his father could be days away!" Ser Davos sounded scared.  
"Lord Renly still holds the capital, Ser Davos, and His Grace has his stormlords in position if the lions strike." Melisandre said, ever so calmly.  
"Lord Renly is hardly the commander to lead the army though, my lady, and it would boost the morale of the people if His Grace lead the attacks-"  
"-and possibly die in the attempt, Ser Davos?" Selyse snarled.  
"Enough!" Stannis half-shouted. "Selyse, Melisandre, leave us."

  
Her mother got out her seat and was about to drag Shireen as well, but King Stannis said "No. Shireen may stay."  
Selyse looked like she was about to say further, but left the room with the red woman after one last glare at the back of Ser Davos's head.  
"My whole reign could end tomorrow if any Lannister loyalists manage to free Cersei and her horrible son. I cannot let that happen." Her father discussed. "With Ned Stark captured, his wife and their children will likely revolt. They captured his youngest daughter as well, and are probably prisoners right now. Tyrion Lannister was last seen in the Vale on trial for murder, nobody knows how that went."  
"Your Grace, I thought Lord Stark had his two other daughters with him? Were they captured as well?" Ser Davos enquired.  
"He sent his eldest daughter back to Winterfell the morning after the Hand's Tourney. The other one, Sansa, she's to be married to Quentyn Martell, and is probably safely in Dorne by now." Stannis then turned to Shireen, "Did you hear, child? You're to marry Rickon Stark when you're both of age."  
"I know that, father, mother told me." She replied.  
"I'm still wondering when I should bloody send you north. The seas are calm right now, but problem is, any ships associated with the Lannister's could attack us, and would probably outnumber us." He turned back to Ser Davos. "It is my wish that my daughter should have a few friends for when she goes to Winterfell. I've sent word to Storm's End, although Ser Cortnay Penrose and the whole castle seems reluctant to part with Robert's boy." Even though her father somehow refused to say Edric Storm's name, Shireen knew that's who he was meaning. "Who else have you sent word to, Your Grace?" Davos asked.  
"The boy's mother, who has two other children roughly the same age as Rickon Stark. Me and Lord Eddard also discussed taking wards from some houses - he's done so in that he's taken daughters from some lords to serve Sansa in Dorne, and I plan to take daughters _and_ sons." Her father explained as he fiddled with an ornament on the table.   
Ser Davos spoke then, "Your Grace, I would be honoured if any of my boys could join Princess Shireen in Winterfell. Either Dale, Allard, Matthos or Maric could serve as her personal sworn shields, and even though he's your squire, Devan would bond with Robb Stark quite well."  
The King considered it, "You have two other sons, Lord Davos."  
Davos looked reluctant somehow. "Stannis and Steffon. Your Grace, I fear they may be too young for such a voyage and change in scenery. Also, my lady wife Marya might be lonely without them - they're her only company in our small keep."   
"When you come into your office as Hand of the King, she'll be welcome to live in the Red Keep with you. That is, so long as no Lannister's get into the city." King Stannis sounded grumpy. "This talk is getting tedious. Choose whichever and however many of your children you want to go with my daughter, and notify me soon. There are more pressing concerns."

  
The next day at breakfast, Allard and Maric fell in beside her when she was walking to the high table. "Morning, Princess, we've been chosen to take you to Winterfell." Maric explained cheerfully.  
"That's great, my lords, will you both be staying with me in the north?" She smiled.  
"Sadly not, princess, we've got to captain your father's ships. But we'll be with you on the ship _Lady Marya._ Our littlest brothers - Stannis and Steffon - are coming too, and our dear lady mother might be too. You'll be in good company." Allard winked.  
Her mother as always wasn't pleased with the arrangement. As they were tucking into their fried eggs, Selyse was muttering angrily to Stannis "Ser Davos's family aren't even noble born. The Lord only knows what they might do to her. Why couldn't you have sent more highborn children with the girl - Duram Bar Emmon is barely a man, Lucos Chyttering comes from a loyal house, the Velaryons I'm sure have a few young sons and daughters-"  
"-My decision is final, Selyse, best you get that into your head. Davos's sons are very capable and will protect her - they think her a sister." Stannis said through gritted teeth.   
Her mother, seething, said nothing after that.

  
It was that afternoon, when Shireen came back into the castle after spending a lot of time with Patchface in Aegons's garden, that the castle was buzzing. Two-thirds of the lords sworn to her father were setting off with him back to King's Landing, with a lot of the ships. Because of that, it was very busy. People were bustling about, some stressed, some relaxed, carrying crates or herding animals. Some horses were even pulling wagons loaded with what looked to be supplies.  
She sighted Devan catching a few moments of rest up against a pillar and so walked towards him. Patches was jingling behind her.  
"Are you heading off with my father?" She asked the boy. Devan had just started growing a beard, and was quite proud of it, even though it looked nothing more than peach fuzz.  
"Aye, Shireen, in a few more hours I'll be back on board _Fury_ with your father." Devan Seaworth grinned. Shireen really liked how there were no formalities with him - he just called her her name, no titles or anything, just Shireen. Of course her mother didn't approve of it, but she didn't care.  
"I wish you were able to come to Winterfell with me. We could explore so much! The crypts, the old keeps, the Wolfswood.. Everything." She said a bit sadly. Devan liked histories as much as she did, and they often talked about travelling to different places in Westeros and just exploring all the historical sights.   
Devan looked disappointed too. "My father talked to your father, but King Stannis wants me with him. The other squire, Bryen Farring, he's not as good as me apparently, so His Grace didn't allow it sadly. But I'm sure my brothers will enjoy the voyage."

  
Matthos and Dale appeared and clapped their younger brother on the shoulders. "Just think of all the girls we might see, Dale."  
Dale Seaworth was a married man, and his wife was possibly pregnant. "The girls _you'll_ be meeting, Matthos, I ain't dishonouring my lady wife."  
Matthos tutted before grinning playfully at Devan. "Try and bed a few camp followers for the next time we see you, Devan, it might loosen you up a bit. All the girls will be soaking their small clothes at the thought of bedding Stannis Baratheon's squire."   
They all laughed and grinned when Devan blushed as red as a beetroot and would have shoved his brother if their father didn't appear as if on cue. "Boys, how dare you speak of such dirty topics in front of the young princess!" Ser Davos looked horrified.  
"It's fine, Ser Davos," Shireen insisted, and all she had to do was grin at him before the man was smiling lovingly and all was forgiven.  
"Boys, say farewell to the Princess and then go help the other men get everything on the ships." Davos instructed his sons. Devan, Dale and Matthos then individually hugged Shireen, and each kissed her on the cheeks, forehead and knuckles, with Devan calling her "little princess." Her heart was full of love for them. She only hoped she got on as well with Stannis and Steffon Seaworth as she did them.

  
When they went, Ser Davos stayed to talk to her. "I hope your father leads us to gallant victories against the Lannister's."  
"Is there going to be a war, Ser Davos?" She asked.  
"With Tywin Lannister marching, and his son the Kingslayer marching on the capital with Ned Stark and Arya Stark captured, one can only predict that the rest of the Stark's will not take it well. Robb Stark might even call his banners." The Onion Knight answered true fully.   
"I hope nothing happens to Lord Stark." She said.  
"Neither do I, princess. He was the one that came to your father when he discovered the lies of Cersei Lannister and the truth Jon Arryn was trying to say all along. We owe him a lot. If anything should happen to him.. It will not be good, and there may be battles."  
Shireen hoped her father won every battle. And she hoped her uncle Renly was doing a good job in holding the capital..

  
The whole yard went silent when Stannis Baratheon emerged from the castle, dressed for war, and looked very concerned. He came marching up to Lord Davos and handed him a scrolled up letter.  
"Sire, remember, I cannot read the words.." Davos admitted feebly.  
"Shireen, read the words for him." Her father commanded.  
She ignored the silence in the yard and all the eyes anticipating what this letter said. She took it from Ser Davos and opened it up, almost dreading the message.

  
She read the letter out loud:  
" _Lord Renly has fled the capital with all his men and met with Loras Tyrell ten leagues south-west of King's Landing. He somehow has a notion in his head that he should be a King in his own right. Come at once, Your Grace, times here are tense and stressful. Grand Maester Pycelle has already written to Lord Tywin and practically invited the man to come and reclaim the city. Ser Barristan has stepped up to be castellan and is trying to hold everything together, but my little birds are telling me that Baelish might have a hand in getting Cersei and Joffrey out of Maegor's. You must return with all your might, Your Grace. Else the capital will collapse."_

  
Her father looked livid. It turned out her uncle Renly was a bit craven at the prospect of battle, and dropped everything from the Red Keep to the responsibility of preparing for war because he now wanted to be King? Shireen was only a young girl and didn't really know the ways of warfare, but even she knew this was deeply troubling.  
"What do we do, sire?" Some men were calling out.  
King Stannis was grinding his teeth. "My capital is all but lost."   
Some men were shocked. The notorious battle commander Stannis Baratheon was thinking of just staying put on Dragonstone?  
"Your Grace, you cannot just abandon the capital to the Lannister's! Remember the last time Lord Tywin entered the city with an army - thousands were butchered and raped. And what if Lannister loyalists do get Joffrey and his mother out, imagine the terror the boy will inflict?!" Alester Florent, her great uncle, sounded desperate as well as shocked.

  
People were now talking all around the yard. Some were eyeing her father with dirty looks. She spied Devan and his brothers not far off, and they looked like they were in deep debate.  
Something caught Shireen's eye - it was Melisandre.   
"My lords! My ladies!" The woman called, and it was as if she was a deeply respected figure, for people stopped talking instantly and looked ready to hang on her every word.  
"Our Lord of Light, ever generous, has granted me visions within the last hour. The flames showed many things. They showed His Grace sat on the Iron Throne, they showed His Grace leading armies into battle and winning. But most troubling, they showed ships."  
The woman paused then, and the people in the yard spoke in quiet voices. Most of them were probably confused about the visions. Why would a vision of ships be a worry? Her father had a good fleet, so surely it was representing his armada of ships sailing to King's Landing?  
"Ships?" Stannis seemed skeptical.  
"Yes, Your Grace, but they weren't ours - they were the ships of the Lannister's."  
"How can this be? The Lannister's haven't had a decent fleet since Euron Greyjoy burned it at anchor in Lannisport all those years ago?" Dale sounded mistrustful.  
"Was it the Redwyne fleet, my lady?" Some Lord shouted.  
"The sigils bore both lions and stags." Melisandre answered.  
"It will be the Royal fleet in King's Landing, then?" Matthos Seaworth called out.  
"Yes, my Lord - and it's bad because I have a feeling it is happening right now." The Asshai'i woman proclaimed.  
More debates broke out. "But who commands it?! Joffrey and Cersei are in prison!" Some castle servant said.  
"It will be weeks before they arrive here!" Another said.  
"And that is why I counsel our King to stay here on Dragonstone." Melisandre said unexpectedly.

  
Shireen was finding it utterly outrageous how nobody was protesting. Surely all these war-hungry men and boys would be raring to go off and fight the Lannister's? Especially a sea battle where her father surely would have dominance - if you could beat the Greyjoy's at sea, you could beat anyone at sea, was her thinking. You'd also think that many of them would complain at the idea of staying put when most of that morning had been spent packing the ships full with heavy crates and supplies as well.  
Shireen looked up at her father, and somehow he wasn't reacting either. He was staring straight at Melisandre though, who was keen on making eye contact. She shared a look with Davos. He looked almost as bamboozled as she did.

  
Shireen had a bad feeling that some sort of sorcery was being used by the red woman when His Grace turned to the crowds, raised his voice, and proclaimed. "We shall stay upon Dragonstone, and let them come to us!"   
As she walked back into the castle, the shouts of " _King_ _Stannis_! _Stannis_! _STANNIS_!" never died down until she was safely in the library.


	19. Quentyn

  
Quentyn never smiled much in his life. What was there to be happy about? His mother had all but abandoned the family, his father never did much with him due to his gout and the fact that Quent was up until recently fostered with the Yronwoods. Although Trystane often asked Quent if he would play with him, Quentyn always did, but wasn't a fan of children's games. He always had to let Trystane win them else his little brother go off in a huff. Arianne was - well, Arianne, - but she had all her companions and plans. Why would she want to spend time with her gloomy brother anyway?

  
However, when Sansa Stark stepped off that warship, Quentyn began to learn how to smile.

  
He wasn't in love with her yet, but the girl was quickly warming to him. He had never seen much redheads in Dorne, but he knew that Sansa was probably the most beautiful one he'd ever seen. He could tell the girl was nervous upon arrival, as she blushed furiously and her courtesies didn't sound as polished, but she had seemed to warm to Quentyn easily. When he offered her his arm, she would gladly take it, and it was as if he could feel her relaxing. _She feels safe with me_ , he realised, _after the things that horrible Baratheon boy done to her, yet she feels comfortable with me so quickly? A brave soul._

  
At the afternoon and evening feasts that his father held that day, he had tried to engage conversation with the Stark girl as much as he could. He also grinned at the girl a few times, and prayed he didn't look like an ugly fool whilst doing it. When they were meeting Oberyn's brood outside, he'd hated his cousin Elia in that moment - for Elia had gone and caused a scene in front of everyone by embarrassing his lady betrothed.

  
But apparently all had been forgiven - at the evening feast, Elia went from hating Sansa one minute to pulling her chair out for her and smiling in the next - Obara had warmed to her as well (the three of them had left the hall). He would ask Sansa about that tomorrow.

  
The feast was hours ago, and in the dead of night Quentyn laid in his bed and tried to plan how tomorrow would go - for he was taking Sansa to the Sunspear markets and showing her around the Kingdom she would one day rule alongside him. It was market season, so it was guaranteed there would be a lot on offer, so he didn't have to worry about her becoming bored. He knew there would be plenty food, drink and jewellery stalls, for traders from across the seas came to display their jewels and amethysts. He was a bit worried though - he'd barely had a proper conversation with his betrothed, so how was he supposed to know what she liked and disliked? He'd be shamed to the moon and back if he spent gold on some fancy necklace for her to turn her nose up at it.

  
It would also be the first time that Sansa would mix and mingle with the smallfolk of Sunspear. Dornish people had unforgiving natures, and would let someone know if they were not wanted or welcome in the country (Rhaenys Targaryen and her dragon Meraxes had learned that the hard way - in death). Dornish people were also very unlikely to forget Robert's Rebellion - where Quentyn's aunt Elia Martell and his young cousins Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen had perished with the crown prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Mad King Aerys. All over Dorne Elia and her children were mourned and worshipped almost as saints. Quentyn prayed that none of the smallfolk would seek to harm Sansa for the crime of being a Stark - for the Stark's were on the rebels side in the rebellion.

  
He went to bed that night dreaming of Gwyn and simpler times, when his mother was around.

  
The next morning, when he was dressed he was escorted to his father's balcony terrace - where his family, along with Sansa and her ladies, were congregated breaking their fast in the morning sun. His betrothed was standing with one of her ladies (he couldn't remember their names) by the balcony rails, along with Sarella, Tyene and Nymeria, gazing out and admiring the beautiful view. He watched her for a few moments as he was taking his seat - her hair was in waves and was behind her head, blowing slowly in the small breeze, and her gown was light and had an indigo tinge which contrasted nicely to her hair. She had turned her head sideways as Sarella explained something whilst pointing out to the horizon, and Sansa looked at ease with a happy smile which turned into a light giggle at something Nymeria commented on.

  
Sansa caught Quentyn's eye, and she looked very happy as she made her way back over to the tables. They sat together at the head of one of them, whilst his father sat at the head of the second one.  
"Sarella was telling me about the Greenblood and the 'Orphans' that live along it," Sansa explained cheerfully as the food all came out and they tucked in. "She says we should go there one day, but Nymeria said that the Orphans might love me too much in that they might fight you for my hand."   
Quentyn smirked at that, and leaned back in his chair slightly as he gazed at her. She really was a sight. "They can bloody well try," he jested, "although I wouldn't blame them. Who wouldn't fall in love with you?"  
His attempt at flirting clearly worked, as Sansa laughed heartily and winked at him as she gulped down a glass of Dornish red. She looked angelic as her face blushed so red it almost matched her hair.

  
After breakfast, it was Quentyn and Sansa who rode out of the castle together on their separate horses. Oberyn had gifted Sansa a Dornish sand steed, which she wowed at when it was led out. Her horse looked like Quentyn's - it was jet black with a fiery red mane and tail. She was a tad shaky as she mounted up, but after a few minutes of getting used to the animal, she was fine. They rode side by side as they walked out of the castles front gate, and he observed his soon to be wife once again. Her blue eyes gazed out at the landscape all around her, her mouth slightly parted, and she truly looked lovely and at home.   
"The centre of the town is barely two leagues from the castle," he explained. "We can stay there for as long as we want due to the short distance."  
She nodded at that. "I hope the Dornish people like me."  
"They will, princess, trust me. After your sister almost avenged Elia and her children, the folk will practically worship your family." He replied, reassuring her. He only hoped that was true.

  
As they walked the sandy road to the market town, they occasionally came across some people. A band of eight people came upon them on the top of a small hill leading about sixteen donkeys and mules, all of which were carrying rope baskets and bags. He could see Sansa tense up a bit, as she gripped her reins tighter, but he leaned over and placed his hand above hers for reassurance.  
The band of people stopped for them and edged their animals over slightly so there was enough room for Quentyn and his betrothed to get past them. A man at the front of the group looked up at them. He obviously seen the Martell sigil on Quentyn's light shirt.  
"Make way for Prince Doran's son, lads!" The man shouted back to his comrades in a thick accent. They all obeyed, and the man smiled up at them. He only had a handful of rotten teeth, but he looked honest enough.  
"Seven save your family, Prince Quentyn!" A middle aged man called out.  
"Who's your lady friend, Prince Quentyn?" Some shirtless boy called out. Quentyn looked over the lad, who was gazing at Sansa.  
He was about to answer, but Sansa beat him to it. "I'm Sansa Stark, my Lord, I'm to marry Prince Quentyn."

  
Quentyn really didn't know how these people would react, so he took one hand off his reins and placed it over the pommel of his sword, just in case they reacted badly.  
It was quiet only for a second, before they cheered.   
"May the Mother Rhoyne grant you two many years of happiness!" A woman near the back called.  
"And children!" A few others shouted.  
"Princess Sansa!" A few more called out. Quentyn and Sansa both smiled at them all, and waved as they broke into a trot.  
"See? I told you they'd love you." He grinned at her. Grins were somehow coming easier to him now.  
"They were hardly representing the whole Dornish population though, and who knows, they might be calling me a whore right now." She jested.  
"I doubt it. A good taste of what's to come though. Let's hope they're all peaceful like that." Quentyn said as he edged his horse into a canter, with Sansa doing the same.

  
They reached the market town within the hour. Even half a league away you could hear the hustle and bustle. His lady was trying hard to keep calm and held her head tall.  
He halted them. "Are you sure you're ready?"  
She looked hesitant. "I hope so. You said that some household guards will be constantly watching us?"  
He nodded. "They'll keep their distance safe, but if they spy anything they'll be with us in an instant."  
She took a deep breath. "I've only been here a day, but I'm ready."  
"You sure?" He asked gently. She smiled and nodded.  
"Good." He gently caressed one of his hands with hers. "We'll ride into the square, but then we'll tie our horses up and walk. It's much easier buying things at stalls when you're not on horseback." He grinned, as did she.  
They rode out of the alleyway they were halted in, and came onto a street Quentyn vaguely knew. It wasn't the main centre of commerce, but he could hear the market square from here easily enough. They just had to follow the sound.

  
When they turned out on to the long street that signalled the market square, Sansa gasped in amazement. That made him smile. She would love Dorne after today.  
They kept on walking steadily, with many people passing them. Only a handful had even spared them glances as of yet. As soon as he sighted the guards his father had assigned them - standing and waving at some hitching posts in the centre of the street, they rode over to them. It was then that Quentyn began to look up at the buildings and houses. People were watching them. They seemed very intrigued by Sansa. He hoped in a good way and not a bad..

  
"My prince, my princess." The guard greeted, his two other men bowing respectfully too. "Hand us your horses. We will stay ten feet behind you two at all times, and are free to do whatever you two may wish. If there is danger, we will be with you in an instant."  
"Thank you, guards." Quentyn said, as did Sansa, although the sweet soul was intent on referring to them as lords.

  
Quentyn undone the bag of gold dragons that was attached to his saddle. His father said it contained a thousand. Quentyn brought with him a few extra hundred from his own savings, in case Sansa decided she wanted an expensive bracelet or something and didn't have enough. He linked his arm with hers and off they went, smiling.  
They walked among the common folk and merchants alike. Animals too. The first stall they came upon was selling skinned vipers - they weren't very sightly as they were hung up and dangling downwards. Without their skin, they looked like naked worms - or the firewyrms he had read about in his books.

  
They also walked amongst the poorest of the poor. Some homeless and poor folk were sat at the sides of the street - begging for food and money, and he could tell Sansa pitied them. He did too.  
"On the way back, can we buy some food for them and give them money?' Sansa asked him as they walked past.  
"Of course, my sweet, we will." He kissed her cheek.  
Merchants were the first to recognise them. A group of them were standing off to the side, huddled and talking. Quent could tell they were talking about them.

  
"Prince Quentyn!" One of them greeted happily, and noisily. Some heads turned.  
He knew this man, for he was both a nobleman and the owner of a bank in Lys, which made him very respected and rich. He'd visited Dorne a few years ago and stayed at Sunspear a week to discuss a trade route with Quentyn's father. The two had gotten along very well, for prince Doran smiled and laughed with him.  
"Lysandro!" He greeted back, and Sansa smiled at the man. "It has been long, my friend, what brings you to Dorne?"  
The flamboyant looking Lyseni was happy to tell. "This is our only stop before we head to Plankytown to deliver some precious shipment, then we bend our oars for home." He explained, and then eyed Sansa. "Who is this lovely lady?"  
Sansa blushed, all innocence. "I'm Sansa Stark of Winterfell, my Lord Lysandro, I'm to marry Prince Quentyn."  
The man grinned. "Ah ha! Your father has finally come to his senses, my prince, for he's at long last got you involved with the ladies! And what a beautiful one indeed!" Lysandro gushed. Quentyn and Sansa laughed.  
"You are as lovely as our goddess in Lys, my lady Sansa. Should you two ever visit, I would be honoured to host you in my manse - so long as I'm actually home, _hah_!" Lysandro laughed at the end. "I can only assume I'll get an invite to the wedding!"  
"You will, Lysandro, we'll have you on the dais with us," Quentyn chuckled (he prayed he'd actually remember to invite him).  
"Let me tell you, the best part of a wedding is not the vows, the kisses, the toasts, the food, the entertainment - no no no, it's the bedding!" Lysandro said in a theatrical voice. They laughed some more. "In Lys we think nothing is more beautiful than a man joining with a woman. Should you ever visit, you both have my blessing and permission to fuck anywhere in my manse, even my own bed."  
Quentyn blushed, as did Sansa, who was still laughing heartily. "Gods, Lysandro, you're too kind." He managed to get out before laughing again. This man was almost too sincere and forgiving.  
"Let's pray you know where to put your cock, prince Quentyn, else it may go horribly for your poor lady." The man winked. More laughter ensued.

  
After Lysandro said goodbye (he kissed Sansa on the cheeks and must've whispered something else about sex, as she kept blushing and grinning), they walked more.  
"He's a character," Sansa said, rubbing her eyes of tears of laughter.  
"The nicest man I know, but I didn't bloody know the Lyseni worshipped fucking _that_ much." He replied, his cheeks hurting from smiling (for the first time ever).

  
They went to their first stall then. It was selling different varieties of Dornish red wine. There was your standard red, and others were different depending on what spice was in them. The wine seller urged them to have a taste of them all, which they did. Some were so bitter it was wonder anyone could drink them, whilst others were so sweet they tasted sugary. Sansa's favourite was a standard red that had a hint of lime and pepper in its aftertaste, which Quentyn quite liked as well. They conferred with each other, and they bought three large sized bottles - one they would share together, one they would offer out to Doran and Oberyn's brood, and another one for Sansa ladies. If they still had money left at the end, they'd buy an extra one for the rest of the castle staff in Sunspear.

Sansa kept eyeing up a stall to their left, which had perfumes for sale. Quentyn urged her to enjoy herself, and that he'd be beside her. An idea then sparked in Quentyn's head as she was smelling the different perfumes - there was a flower stall just across the street, with colourful blooms and vases. He looked back and gestured for one of the guards to keep an eye on Sansa before discreetly walking over to the flower stall.

  
The florist was a kind woman, but he wished she didn't explain the flowers for long as Sansa could turn around at any moment and it'd ruin the surprise. In the end, he bought a vase full of both sunflowers and red roses, the colours of which looked great together. He also got a handful of violet tulips that he'd offer as a token of gratitude to her ladies in-waiting. He walked back over, and she'd just paid for a few scents when he got to her side.  
She turned around, and her eyes went wide with joy. "Quentyn! You didn't!" She put her hand over her mouth.  
He grinned. "Of course I did my lovely." He kissed her forehead, not caring who saw.   
"How are we meant to carry these? We've still got more stalls to look at." She asked, her blue eyes shining in the sunlight.  
He turned to one of the guards. "Ozzie, take these back to the wheelhouse." The guard stepped forward. "And if you drop that vase, you'll face my wrath."  
"You got us a wheelhouse for our shopping?" Sansa asked in disbelief, still smiling.  
"Of course, we weren't going to balance everything on our heads riding back to Sunspear, were we?" He winked.  
The further they walked up the streets, the more people looked at them. No doubt they recognised them by now.   
"Oooh, can I please go look at that jewellery stall, with your leave?" Sansa sounded like an excited child. "Tyene said that Obella really wanted an amethyst and lapis lazuli necklace that she seen in this market the last time, but Oberyn said no when she asked if she could buy it."   
Quentyn smiled. "You don't have to ask me, lovely. Go ahead and spend the money, we've still got hundreds and hundreds left."  
She grinned at him and walked ahead to go to the exotic looking stall. He leaned up against a small wall and watched her. When she paid for it, she showed it to him. It looked bloody expensive, so he hoped Obella would like it.

  
They spent a good few hours just strolling up the streets. Sansa also bought some velvet and silk gowns for Dorea and Loreza, the youngest Snakes, as Ellaria apparently told her to do so due to the fact that the two young girls ripped their previous ones whilst trying to knock oranges out of trees with their morningstars. He also learned that his betrothed adored lemon cakes. He would remember this, he knew, for she never looked so content when she ate a sample offered at a confectionary stall.

  
After another while, the sun wasn't as warm, and the wind was a bit more than a tiny breeze. "What shall we do for an afternoon meal, princess?" He asked her.  
She looked around. "Do you know of any inns we could go to that do nice food?"  
He did. "Down near the waterfront, there's a good one that Arianne recommended me once - it's built in the same place that Nymeria stood after she landed in Dorne with her ten thousand ships."  
They found the inn a short while later, and walked in with their guards behind them. They found a table in the corner, and after a few minutes deciding, he went up to order their food. He walked back to their table, and it wasn't long before a serving girl came to fill their cups with red wine and leaving the tankard on their table.  
"We can work our way back up the market square, so that we can visit the stalls again." Quentyn recommend.  
Sansa nodded. "We will also need to buy some food and give them to the poor, so that they'll love us. I'll do it myself on our behalf, if you wish." He nodded.

Their food came not long later. They shared a massive platter of stuffed peppers, but they weren't as spicy as the ones they had last night at the feast. Sansa said she loved them.  
Quentyn had just placed a green pepper on his platter when Sansa kept staring behind him, probably at the front door. Then she said in a hushed voice, "Elia's just come in with someone."  
He turned his head slowly, and true be told, there was his bastard half-cousin, Elia Sand. She was holding hands with some boy, a sandy haired youth who looked strapping and tall. Quent didn't spend long looking as he wanted to be discreet and wonder who this boy was. Sansa gave him regular updates though.  
"They're now at a table, across the room."  
"She's just downed some ale."  
"They're talking and smiling."

  
Quentyn decided to look around, and as if on cue, he seen Elia and this boy locking lips.  
"Oh." Was all Sansa said to that.  
"I'm sure her parents will be pleased." Quentyn scoffed sarcastically.  
When he looked back at Elia, she was looking straight at them. She then wandered over.  
"Cousin," she greeted, 'Sansa."  
"Who's your boy?" Sansa grinned. Elia went bright red.  
"He's just a boy who used to squire for my father." She said, fiddling with her fingers.  
" _Used_ to?" Quentyn raised his eyebrows.  
"Until he caught me kissing him behind a pillar." Elia admitted feebly. "Please don't tell him. And don't tell my mother either, she'll skin me probably."  
"Don't worry, we won't, right Quentyn?" Sansa looked at him expectantly. He promised the same.  
"The whole town is talking about you two," Elia stated. "You should see them outside, they're starting to gather."  
 _Oh great,_ he thought, _but it was only a matter of time.._

  
Elia told it true. When they finished, they opened the door and a whole crowd of people had gathered. Sansa was a tad shocked.  
"There's so many.." She said, almost under her breath.  
Quentyn felt extremely awkward, and limply raised a hand and waved to the crowd.   
After a minute, his lady seemed to be bolder. "Let's walk amongst them."  
He turned to her. "Are you sure? What if they harm you?"  
"We have guards, don't we?" She smiled, suddenly confident as she walked down the steps. He hurried to be by her side.  
The people made way for them. He felt slightly at ease when the folk nearest to them smiled and blew kisses. Some small children came weaving underneath adults legs, and Sansa knelt down to speak with them. Quentyn also decided to be thoughtful - he gave each person that held their hands out a gold dragon, which they seemed grateful for. The children were clearly delighted, as Sansa spoke to them softly as if she was an old friend to them, and she was holding hands with two of them (regardless of the fact they looked a tad grubby).

  
By the time they were back in the market square, an army of people were walking behind them and with them. Even though he was still by Sansa's side, it was hard to hear what she was saying, for people kept cheering. People that lived in houses that were a few storeys high were practically hanging out their windows, waving and shouting " _Sansa_!" And " _Prince Quentyn!"_ Some were even proclaiming them " _the King and Queen of Dorne_!"

  
Quentyn could not see their guards in the crowd, but he knew somehow they weren't far away. They probably wouldn't be needed anyway, for the army of common people around them weren't doing any harm. Whilst they were walking back up the market square at their slow pace, the crowd slowly dispersed, probably going to spend their gold dragons that Quent had given them.

  
Sansa fulfilled her promise of spending money, as she went to a bakers stall and bought loaves of bread, some pies and tarts, and some queer looking pastries. She then went up to all the poor folk that sat homeless at the sides of the street. He decided to join her, to make himself look good and caring. She first visited an old woman who looked like a corpse.  
They slowly approached her, but somehow the ladies eyes didn't open. "Oh no, what if we were too late and she's dead?" Sansa whispered to him all of a sudden.  
"This heat is sweltering," Quentyn said, "it may be that she perished."  
Just as he said that though, the woman seemed to stir. Then her eyes opened. It must've looked odd to the poor crone - the first thing she sees being two highborn children standing in front of her and whispering.  
Sansa put her hand into the satchel she had and brought out one of the loaves. She then knelt down. Quentyn stayed standing, watching for any danger.  
"My lady, here is a loaf of bread, to help you keep strength." Sansa explained gently.  
The woman raised a withered hand. The poor thing looked so weak. In a small voice the woman thanked Sansa. "You are too kind, lovely lucky girl."  
As they were moving on to the next poor person, Sansa looked chuffed. "She called me lucky?"  
"She meant your hair, sweetheart." He grinned at her.  
"My hair?" She seemed perplexed.  
"Red hair is lucky in First Men culture. It may be the same in Rhoynish culture." He explained. She looked delighted.

  
They then arrived at a mother and child. The mother didn't even look that much older than his betrothed. Her babe only looked a few weeks old, and it was softly crying.  
Sansa approached, a small round golden pie in hand. She knelt down. He noted that the young woman looked anxious and wary. He put a hand on his sword pommel just in case. He also moved it around in its scabbard so it was ready to be unsheathed if Sansa was attacked.  
He didn't need his sword out after all. The girl was practically in tears of happiness to learn that Sansa was offering her food. She also gave the girl a few golden dragons so that she'd be able to buy food for her baby. Sansa even held the child, and Quentyn couldn't help but think how lovely she looked. _One day I will see her hold our child_ , he thought. The prospect scared him slightly though. For them to have a child, they'd have to marry and consummate. _I'll have to perform.._

  
When Sansa had finished up with the young girl and her child, they walked on to the next person. "The poor girl's father disowned her when he discovered her pregnancy," Sansa told him. "the father of her child is a fisher boy, but he's out to sea a lot. He told her he'd come back for her, but that was three months ago.. I feel so sad for her."  
When Sansa had visited every homeless person on the market square, that was when they concluded their days work done. They walked arm in arm back to their horses and the wheelhouse that he had be brought so that their purchases could go in it. He was pleased to learn that his vase of sunflowers and roses he'd bought for his lady had survived, and looked unlikely to break. His vase of violet tulips were in one piece as well.

  
The ride back to Sunspear was quiet. Well, not really, as Quentyn and Sansa conversed throughout. The sandy road also had slightly more traffic than it did earlier that morning, but people only done so much as praise them or look at them.  
They'd just come up over the brow of a hill when they heard the clear sound of hoofbeats. Quentyn looked around, and he could see behind them that two people on horses were galloping towards them. They were in the distance, but yet he couldn't help but feel threatened.  
"Don't leave my side," he commanded his lady.  
Sansa's eyes widened and she looked paler than usual. "Are we being followed? Who are those people behind us?"  
He unsheathed his sword, but wished he didn't do it so quickly, as Sansa flinched. The steel glinted in the sunlight, almost too brightly.   
They came up behind them.  
"Put your damn sword up, cousin, we're hardly like to attack you." Elia Sand called.  
 _Fucking hell_ , he thought, _trust Elia to make a scene._  
"From behind it looked like you were two bandits or something, the way you were galloping towards us, I couldn't be sure." He replied, sliding his sword back into its sheath. Elia's companion who was with her in the inn earlier was still accompanying her, his horse being as sandy coloured as his hair. It wasn't a sand steed, but it was mayhaps a cross breed.  
"Your wheelhouse of items is slow and lumbering, cousin, it will be nightfall by the time it gets back to the castle." Elia also proclaimed as she fell in beside them, her lover doing the same.  
"So long as it gets back, it makes no matter." He shrugged. "Who's the lucky lad that has the privilege of loving you, El?" He asked. Sansa also looked intrigued.  
"I'm the bastard son of Daeron Vaith, my prince. Used to squire for your uncle, my prince." The lad answered, a bit shakily. His eyes were as blue as the sky above them.  
"Ah yes. Prince Oberyn caught you two kissing, as Elia told us." Quentyn japed. The boy blushed bright red.  
"What will he do if he sees you two together? Will he even be allowed in to the castle?" Sansa asked, leaning forward in her saddle to talk to Elia as Elia was to Quent's right.  
"Sadly not, as Ryon has to get back to the inn before departing back to Vaith on the morrow. We should kiss in his presence though, to see what a fright he gets." Elia answered, grinning cheekily at Ryon, who winked in response. _It wouldn't surprise me if she's no longer a maiden,_ he thought, observing the two.

  
It was quiet only for another minute, before Elia gathered up her reins and shouted "Last one back to Sunspear is a stale loaf of bread!"  
And just like that, Elia's black filly burst forward into a gallop, Ryon Sand's mount doing the same. Quentyn was about to, but turned to Sansa. "Are you okay with galloping?"  
"Of course!" She grinned. Her horse turned out to be faster than his, as she was in front of him the whole way to the castle gates. As they galloped, Sansa's hair blew out behind her almost majestically. He could hear her whooping with delight as well.

  
They must've given the castle staff a fright, as they all burst into the courtyard still galloping. Quentyn almost feared that they wouldn't be able to pull their horses up in time, but thankfully none of them crashed. Ryon Sand looked windswept and flushed, whilst Elia and Sansa both looked at ease. Ryon had to depart rather quickly and unceremoniously, as Oberyn flaunted into the yard to greet them. The boy probably didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to Elia, but she probably didn't care about that, just so long as he wasn't seen.   
"Ah, El, you did find them after all." Oberyn said, smiling at his daughter.  
"I did father, I encountered them on the ride back." Elia Sand explained, dismounting.   
Quentyn could tell that somehow Oberyn had an inkling that his daughter wasn't by herself the whole time she was away. _He probably had somebody watch her,_ Quentyn thought as they walked back inside the castle. _Hells, he probably told my guards to spy on her._

  
The wheelhouse that contained Sansa and Quentyn's purchases arrived a few hours later, before the evening feast. The bottles of the wine they purchased proved to be liked by all, as Sansa's ladies, the Sand Snakes (except Obella, Dorea and Loreza, who were too young to drink alcohol) Oberyn, Ellaria and Doran all tried samples of each. Sansa's ladies seemed surprised when Quentyn gave them a violet tulip each (a few of them blushed superbly - the Caswell girl, the Westerling girl and the bastard Rhea especially). Ellaria thanked Sansa immensely for the gowns she had gotten for Dorea and Loreza, who insisted they wouldn't damage these ones (although they probably would). And finally, Obella was ecstatic when Sansa gifted her the amethyst and lapis lazuli necklace that the girl had begged Oberyn to get but got no for an answer. Quentyn was quite sure Obella would never take it off.

  
Before the evening feast that night, Doran had told Quentyn that he should be the one to collect and escort Sansa and her ladies to the dining hall (he'd done so the previous night). When he'd reached the chamber door, he could hear the gossip and giggling going on inside it, and tried to listen for Sansa's, but it was probably drowned out by her companions - it was more breathy than loud. He knocked, and could hear the giggles turn to silence and then giddy whispers. The door opened, and the Caswell girl was there. "Prince Quentyn, we are almost ready. Sansa's just brushing her hair." She explained with a smile. _Gods, she looks like Gwyn.._ He couldn't help but think.  
"That's alright, you look lovely my lady, as I'm sure you all do." He answered. The girl grinned and thanked him, but was blushing so hard you'd think she was standing naked.

  
When Sansa was ready, she emerged with her ladies behind her. She was still wearing the violet gown from today. It didn't take long for him to notice that there was a tulip woven into her hair - and her ladies hair. When he pointed it out, they all giggled and said it had been Sansa's idea so that the tulips he'd gotten them wouldn't go to waste.  
They met up with Sansa's septa on the stairs, as well as her sworn shield Alyn, who had finally dressed Dornish rather than Northern. The portly man told Sansa she looked great, which she seemed pleased about. The man also eagerly informed Sansa how her direwolf Lady was doing. The wolf had been placed in the kennels, but she had sufficient room to move around in it, and Quentyn was sure he'd heard the beast howl in the night.

  
They were almost on the ground floor when Sansa suddenly stopped. "Quent, may we talk in private for a minute?" She asked.  
Her ladies somehow seemed to looked giddy, and were trying to stifle giggles. He smiled. "Of course."  
The man Alyn somehow seemed reluctant to leave her at first, as was her septa, but she insisted. When she was sure they were out of earshot, she faced him.  
And within a second, her lips were on his.  
Quentyn didn't know how to react. Nor did he really know what to do. He felt ashamed.  
He pulled away, but only for a second. "Don't let go," Sansa said in a small voice.  
"But I'm a terrible kisser," he insisted.  
"You're not. You're doing fine." She whispered.  
Somehow Quent's body seemed to move for him. He led her to a small corridor which was more shaded than the others and continued their kissing up against a pillar. It was more eager this time. Something had sparked inside him that only Sansa managed to ignite.  
 _A new found fire._


	20. Bran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place around about a month after the Shireen chapter, as obviously they need time to pick everyone up and travel from Dragonstone to Winterfell.
> 
> Also, Matarys and Valaena Velaryon are my own made up characters.

  
Princess Shireen arrived with quite an entourage.  
Rickon's betrothed looked quite scary, with half her face covered in greyscale scars from when she was younger, but at least he didn't gasp like Rickon did. His youngest brother was far too young to understand betrothals and marriages, but Maester Luwin spent all of their lesson yesterday going over what was expected of them. Rickon had nodded and said he'd do everything expected, but Bran partly knew he wouldn't.

  
Robb was the one to welcome the princess as he was the Lord of Winterfell. He knelt before her, as did Bran (as best as he could, with his legs crippled yet again) and Rickon, and the Winterfell castle staff that were remaining. She smiled and ushered them to their feet. Robb done the introductions, and Bran was the one to say that quarters were ready for them and their belongings and that a feast would be held tonight in their honour.

  
Introductions were firmly underway. Shireen Baratheon was enthusiastic and blushed when both Robb and Bran called her princess and kissed her hand. For a moment he thought that she mistook him for Rickon, but apparently not. Rickon to his credit done a good job. He was courteous enough, although he was a bit quiet, but he made eye contact with her and hoped she liked her new home.

  
Shireen's companions were nice as well. He was a tad startled when two of them stepped forward, for the looked exactly like Targaryen's. _Surely not, all the dragons are dead.._ Bran thought.  
Robb put his worries to rest. "Bran, this is Matarys and Valeana Velaryon, the son and daughter of the old Lord of Driftmark."  
He'd almost forgotten about House Velaryon. They were a powerful Crownlands house, and had wed Targaryen's more than any other house could boast. Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives had a Velaryon for a mother, and Rhaenyra the Realm's Delight had three Velaryon children who had all perished during the Dance of the Dragons. There was also a Corlys Velaryon he recalled - was he the famous Seasnake? He'd consult his books later, to have better knowledge of the House.  
"Nice to meet you, my Lord, my lady, I hope you find your stay here adequate." Bran told the two Valyrian-looking children. Robb nodded from behind them.  
"Are you two related to the Targaryen's?" Bran couldn't help but ask.  
"Yes, but not really," Valaena admitted with a shy smile. She was very pretty, Bran judged. Bran hoped that his betrothed, Princess Myrcella, was prettier, else he may just ask Robb if he could marry Valaena instead.  
"We have Targaryen blood, true, but only up to Aegon the Third. Targaryen Princesses are in our blood as well, such as Elaena, Baela the daughter of the Rogue Prince, and Queen Rhaenyra too. We aren't direct descendants though - at most they're our however times great aunts and uncles." Matarys Velaryon answered in depth expertly. _He's an old man trapped in a young boys body,_ Bran thought to himself, _he has wisdom far beyond his years_. Flanking the young Velaryons was their 'secondary' maester - called Olyvar, who was to handle any correspondence from the Lord of Driftmark, lessen Maester Luwin's workload by tutoring the young twins himself, and to provide any counsel.

  
Also in the princesses party were the Seaworth's. There were two older ones, - Allard and Maric, (who's ships had taken Shireen from Dragonstone to White Harbour) who were both in their twenties. They would be leaving in two days time to rejoin their King down south. Then there was Stannis and Steffon, the two youngest, who were younger than Bran but slightly older than Rickon. Stannis was the older one, - he was slightly taller, more lean, and he had the same hair colour as Bran did. Steffon was younger, smaller, and a tad more plumper with lighter hair that looked like it was prone to curls. Their eyes were round and their courtesies were shaky but polished. Their mother was with them too - lady Marya Seaworth didn't look noble, but she was proud to admit that she was only a carpenters daughter with a noble name. She seemed quite jolly, and kept looking around Winterfell in pure awe and wonder. _Probably the first proper castle she's ever seen._ Bran thought.

  
Introductions done, it fell on Robb to give their guests a tour of the castle so that nobody got lost. Bran wanted to go with him, but his legs were mangled and useless again, and it wouldn't be proper for him to be on Hodor's back looking like a broken boy in his basket, so he stayed in the courtyard with Rickon. Theon and Cley Cerwyn rejoined them eventually.  
"Me and Theon are going to have an archery competition. You coming to watch us, Bran?" Cley Cerwyn asked him.  
He did want to, truly, but he felt a broody mood coming on him. Just last week his legs had somehow failed again, and he remembered how he cried. It wasn't fair - why had the gods done this to him?! He'd just gotten back on to his pony Dancer and was learning how to handle light lances, and Ser Rodrik was teaching him how to ride at quintains.. He didn't understand. They'd been working fine, but now he was truly broken. He'd been the topic of many gossip amongst the Winterfell staff, he knew, for they tried to hide their looks of disgust, terror and laughter behind their smiles. The only person who seemed more curious than anything else was the wildling woman Osha, who had attempted to kill Bran in the Wolfswood and would have succeeded at that if Robb and Theon hadn't killed her wildling companions, forcing her to yield. He looked around, but couldn't see her. _Gage probably has her working hard in the kitchens,_ Bran thought, _with the feast being held tonight, she's not like to get much rest.._  
He didn't hear Ser Rodrik behind him, but the old man was by his side. "There's nothing to stop you shooting an arrow, Bran. You don't need legs to work a bow."  
Bran lit up. "Truly?!"  
Ser Rodrik's whiskers jiggled as he chuckled. "Aye. Take your brother with you too, it's past time he learned how to be a warrior."  
Bran nodded. He called Hodor over and Maester Luwin helped him into his basket. He then called Rickon over and told him he had to learn archery. Rickon complained that he wanted to spend time with Shaggydog and later play with Princess Shireen, but Bran told him that the Princess would be too weary after the long journey to play today. That almost made his little brother break down crying, but when Bran said that he'd have all of tomorrow to play with her, Rickon seen the reason in that and so came with them.

  
Theon and Cley had already set up the archery butts and had gathered ten quivers full of twice as many arrows. They had an archery butt each so that they didn't have to take it in turns, which Bran thought would be good - he'd be under no pressure as the others wouldn't be waiting their turn. Ser Rodrik supervised them and tutored Rickon a little bit away from them. A chair had been set up for Bran and it was placed ten yards away from the straw scarecrow that would soon be arrow fodder. He liked how it was close range. Theon and Cley were experienced archers, however, and they preferred long-range - they stood a good twenty feet away from their targets.  
It was hard to focus at first - with Theon and Cley's targets soon fast collecting arrows, but he learned to ignore the sound. He done everything at his own pace. Bran knocked his arrow, drew it backwards with a relaxed bow arm, and loosed it..  
...It went skimming over the top of the target.  
He felt frustration flare up inside him, and wanted to cry. But he wouldn't. Not here. Cley was departing back to Castle Cerwyn on the morrow - Bran did not want his friend going home and telling his family that Lord Eddard's adventurous son had been reduced to a cripple who couldn't even shoot an arrow.  
So he tried again. The quiver was strapped to one of the arms on the chair for easy access, so he just snatched up a random one and readied his stance again. This time he locked his eyes on the centre of the straw target, where the heart would be. He relaxed everything then.  
He shot, but for some reason lowered his arm slightly at the last second. The arrow hit the target, but hit it in what would be the groin instead of the heart. Bran was satisfied with that though. His confidence now up, he tried again, and again, and again..

  
By the time they'd all ran out of arrows, the afternoon air was getting colder and the sun wasn't as high in the sky. Bran's fingers were starting to blister as well, but he didn't mind sores. Rickon was rubbing his eyes, a sign that he was tired. Bran looked to the straw arrow fodder that his youngest brother had used - it only had three arrows in it, and there was four times that number lying on the ground all around it. _A decent attempt for a boy of four_ , he decided.

  
Robb strode out into the yard looking slightly stressed. His eldest brother had apparently spent all the morning getting their guests settled in, and then had to go to the kitchens to double check that everything was going to plan for the feast that night. He spoke at length with Theon and Cley, and Bran wished he knew what they were talking about. _Only big boy stuff,_ Robb would often say. Theon called it _lordly talk_.  
Robb did speak with Bran though. "You done well during the introductions."  
Bran smiled at that. "Princess Shireen seems nice."  
"She is," Robb agreed. "Although I think she prefers me to Rickon. Kept blushing and giggling."  
That was only to be expected. The girls loved Robb.

  
After that, he was placed back into his basket on Hodor's back and taken back up to his bedchamber - for he had to wash and look presentable for the feast being held that night. Servants brought up the iron tub and pails of warm water and began to fill it. They also put some smelling salts in to the tub so it would bubble up the water.  
Hodor stayed to help as well. The large stable boy sat on a stool by the tub and scrubbed Bran's body with a soft sponge. Bran liked Hodor, but he wished he would scrub more firmly instead of gently - as every stroke of the sponge felt like a tickle.  
"Scrub harder, Hodor." Bran instructed him.  
"Hodor," said Hodor, before complying.  
Maester Luwin bustled in whilst Bran was getting dried down with the towel. He brought with him some fresh clothes and trousers. The doublet had long sleeves and was a navy blue colour, whilst the trousers and the undershirt were black.  
"Where's Osha?" Bran asked him as the doublets laces were being done up.  
"In the kitchens, working." Luwin replied. "Why?"  
_Because I had another dream_ , he wanted to say. "I just wanted to tell her something."  
Luwin gave him a measured look, as if he knew Bran was lying, before finishing him up. "You're expected in the hall shortly, for you have to be on time to look prepared for your guests."  
Bran nodded, and the Maester got Bran back into his basket before departing.

  
Hodor walked slowly back down the stairs to the main common hall. Bran had to lean down in his basket a few times, for Hodor was so tall and didn't bother to crouch when passing under thick beams of wood. There were times he nearly whacked his head. It wouldn't be proper for him to have a broken skull as well as broken legs.  
When he entered, he noticed that the dais had been placed in the middle of the room and was horizontal with chairs on both sides of it. Robb was at the head of the table - the Lord's seat. Rickon as if on cue entered via the back door and done a few laps of the table before sitting in one of the chairs closest to Robb.  
He felt someone lift him up out of his basket. When he turned his head, it was Osha. "Where have you been all day?" He whispered to her.  
"Gage has me stirring pots, cleaning pots, scrubbing and chopping." Osha replied. Whenever she moved, the manacles around her feet made noises.  
"I had another dream." He whispered to her.  
She looked at him cooly. "Have you told your Maester?"  
"No. He wouldn't believe me anyway." Bran shrugged.  
Osha would have said more, but Robb had her ready the drinks. They didn't have to wait around long as Theon and Cley appeared. They both looked slightly dishevelled and were panting slightly. Bran heard Cley enthusiastically whisper to Robb something about whores which caused Robb to give him an odd look. All Theon did was laugh.

  
Princess Shireen and all her companions arrived thereafter. The Princess of Dragonstone wore a simple gown of grey, which matched her face. She was arm-in-arm with Valaena Velaryon, the girl who made Bran's heart flutter. Matarys Velaryon was almost trying too hard to look lordly, as he held his face comically high. Stannis and Steffon Seaworth each held a hand of their mother, whilst their older brothers Allard and Maric dressed more like sailors than lords, but their garb still looked nice.  
Robb stood up and welcomed them, and ushered them all to take their seats wherever they wished. Allard and Maric Seaworth made a beeline to sit near to Theon, Cley and Robb, who were probably closest in age to them. They were welcomed and soon the boys were all talking.

  
Rickon was directly across the table from Bran, and there were tons of empty seats next to him, so his youngest brother was desperate to have Princess Shireen sit next to him. Bran was glad, as it meant that Valaena Velaryon was directly across from him and he could look at her. The two youngest Seaworth's sat on Bran's side of the table, although were too shy to sit next to him, so Lady Marya was the one to claim the seat directly next to Bran. He smiled up at her in welcome. "Be seated, my lady." He hoped that was the right thing to say. She smiled at him gladly. Her teeth were straight but were slightly yellow, but other than that she looked graceful if not slightly out of place.

  
The table was soon thriving in conversation. The older Seaworth children were guffawing and laughing with Robb, Theon and Cley, although Cley looked slightly out of place being only fourteen. Matarys Velaryon was engaging conversation with Bran although he was down and across the table, and Rickon wanted to know from Shireen what Dragonstone looked like (Rickon also asked if there were actual dragons on the island which made Bran cringe internally, although his betrothed only giggled). The two youngest Seaworth's - Stannis and Steffon, were warming to Bran as well, as when every course came out, they thanked Bran and his family for the hospitality.

  
It was only after a while that Bran realised (which was ironic, as she was directly next to him) that he'd forgotten all about Marya Seaworth, who would no doubt be feeling slightly left out. He felt extremely sorry for her, as she had nobody to talk to up this end of the table - Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin were further down the table but too far away for her to be heard.  
He tried to think of something to start the conversation, as the main course of a roast peacock in its plumage was being placed in the middle of the table. "How was your journey here, Lady Marya?"  
Marya Seaworth looked quite thankful she was finally getting spoken to. She lit up. "I've never been much good on ships, m'lord, but it was pleasant enough. T'was stormy around Driftmark when we picked the two little darlings up, and it was stormy every day when we were in The Bite, but my sons know the seas as well as their father does, for their ships got us here safely."  
He nodded. "Your husband, is he the Hand of the King? King Stannis's Hand, I mean."  
"The very one." She seemed proud. "I miss him. I hope he does a good job. It's baffling, considering he can't actually read."  
That surprised Bran, "Really? How will he read letters?"  
"I suppose there will always be a Maester for that part of the job," she reasoned. She smiled again "I heard you had sisters, m'lord."  
He smiled back. "Lyanna, my eldest sister, she's on her way back to Winterfell from King's Landing. My other sister Sansa is in Dorne, she's betrothed to Prince Quentyn Martell, and my youngest sister Arya is with my father and mother."  
"They say Lyanna is a beauty, even back home in Cape Wrath and the rainwood they speak of her. No doubt you've heard of what she did at the Hand's Tourney." Marya now looked at ease.  
"She dressed up as a mystery knight and won the tourney before revealing herself." Bran had heard the tale half a hundred times. He was beginning to think that Lyanna may yet become a legend for the singers to sing of, and mayhaps rebellious daughters of strict Lords would take note and try the same thing.

  
The peacock was delicious, Bran decided as he pierced a cut bit on his dagger and took his first bite. He wondered just where Robb had sourced this flamboyant bird from. Not even their father served up colourful peacocks at feasts. It would certainly be something Robb could impress his betrothed, Lady Margaery Tyrell, with. Then again, Highgarden was rich and elegant, so Margaery Tyrell had probably had a peacock before.

  
There was a handful of serving girls milling around the table. Osha was one of them. She was currently on the other side of the table pouring Matarys Velaryon some pomegranate juice, although the boy insisted on cider. "My Lord father and lady mother let me have a cup at feasts, though." The boy complained with a sour look and crossly folded arms. Bran watched as the very pretty Valaena scolded her twin brother, saying that Winterfell was not Driftmark and the servants could get in trouble for serving alcohol to mere children. Matarys just shrugged and sulked, and for a few minutes didn't pick up his fork and dagger to eat, as if in protest. _I have a feeling he'll be trouble_ , Bran thought. _Quick to anger and slow to forgive, despite all his knowledge and wisdom._

  
Bran also glanced to Robb a few times, and Robb motioned for Bran to also try out the other food on the table - which were mostly vegetables. Bran reluctantly served himself a few spoonfuls of carrots, peas, potatoes, green leafy vegetables and beets. He ate them all, and decided the only thing he disliked was the beets. He had to discreetly spit them out into a handkerchief that covered his mouth as he thought them that vile. He hoped that Valaena wasn't looking at him.

  
Robb certainly outdone himself with the desserts. He had the table almost silent as they were carried in delicately - for their dessert was in the form of spun sugar structures. He had honoured all the guests Houses, for their was a structure for Winterfell, Dragonstone, Driftmark, and last of all King's Landing in honour of Shireen's father King Stannis. Everyone was impressed, even Bran.  
"Spectacular, m'lord!" Marya Seaworth clapped.  
"Me and my brother thank you, my Lord," Valaena called out with a grin.  
Marya even urged her youngest son's to speak up. "Thank you, Lord Robb!" Stannis Seaworth said in a childish tone.  
Theon clapped Robb on the shoulder, as did Allard and Maric, and Cley too. Robb then stood up, and the rest of the table did so, except crippled Bran.  
"My lords, my ladies, a toast!" Robb called out expertly, sounding very much at ease with his lordly and charming tone. "To King Stannis,"  
They all raised their cups to the King. Bran drank.  
"To Lord Davos, the Hand of the King!" Robb also called out.  
"I say we toast Lord Eddard!" Allard said, and he got cheers in response.  
Bran thought that if they toasted anymore people, half the room was like to be drunk before they'd even eaten dessert.  
"To our very own Princess Shireen!" Maric bowed in respect before toasting Shireen, who grinned and blushed. Rickon almost seemed shoulder-to-shoulder with his betrothed, and he wondered if somehow they were sharing chairs.  
Princess Shireen decided to add a toast as well, "To the prosperity of the Seven Kingdoms!"  
Bran tried to think of a toast. He half thought of toasting Valaena, but couldn't think what to say. Plus, it would seem queer, as Bran was betrothed to Princess Myrcella - or was she just Lady Myrcella now?

  
It seemed to be the end of the toasting, however, as everyone sat back down and dug their spoons in. Bran felt content as soon as the taste hit his tongue. The sugar was like to keep him awake for hours, but he didn't mind that so much. Everyone at the table was soon humming about the taste.

  
After another hour, they were dismissed, for it was night outside and everyone was growing weary. Robb got up to escort their guests back to their wing of the castle, whilst everyone else departed. Osha was on hand to place Bran back in his basket on Hodor's back and was soon on his way back to his chambers too.  
"Your brother isn't here now. Tell me of your dream." Osha instructed him, still keeping her voice down.  
"It all felt so real," Bran tried to recall some of it. "A smiling young lord was out at sea in a ship, looking content, until a storm rolled in and a dark kraken of the deep rose from the depths of the sea to take the ship under."  
Osha had no reply to that, although she looked puzzled. He waited until they were safely in his bedchamber. "A smiling Lord? So you never seen his face?" The young woman asked as she helped get Bran ready for bed.  
"No. All I saw was his mouth."  
"T'is strange. What else?" She asked.  
"A wolf was in the clutches of a kraken." He said, almost scared to tell the tale. "They produced something strange, but then the wolf got out of the kraken's clutches when a large scythe came crashing down on its tentacles."  
"We don't dream stuff like this north o' the wall, m'lord." Osha proclaimed. "Might be you do need to tell your Maester. Get a dreamless sleep potion and down it. That'll stop it."

  
Bran nodded, but when Osha and Hodor left him to the still darkness of his bedchamber, he didn't want to sleep in case he dreamed more. Instead, he stayed up, and wondered what on earth these horrible dreams meant.

 


	21. Arys Oakheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so sorry if you've all been expecting an update! Throughout April and the start of May I had exams so that's why I haven't updated this fic in nearly a month, but they are all done now so I can get back to writing so here's a chapter through the eyes of Ser Arys Oakheart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, in this chapter I refer to Edric Storm being Myrcella and Tommen's half-brother. I've done this just for simplicity - I know that Myrcella and Tommen are Jaime and Cersei's children whilst Edric is of Bobby B and Delena Florent but I still refer to them as half-siblings just for the sake of being general. Enjoy!

  
They arrived at the impregnable fortress of Storm's End in the middle of the night, the buffeting storm gladly decreasing.

  
Arys was thankful that Ser Cortnay Penrose was still awake to open the gates to them, as he didn't want to spend another second outside in the howling wind and rain. They didn't bring a wheelhouse, as they had to ride quickly and not seem suspicious. The ponies that Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen were on were good mounts, gentle and steady, but there were times that night that Arys's heart near fell to the ground every time a rumble of thunder came around or a bolt of lightning seared through the sky ahead, for the ponies were restless and spooked. His two charges hadn't fallen off once, but even though they tried to be as brave as Baratheon's, they were after all only children. Tommen had been crying for the past hour. Myrcella hadn't cried at all, but the longer she stayed awake, the more tired she got - and she was grumpy when tired. She was also wary of lightning, and the wind kept blowing her hood down. He could see how pale she was too - and there was a hint of fear in her eyes.

  
As soon as they rode into the courtyard of the castle, he could relax. We've made it, he thought. Penrose received them gladly.  
"You're a true Knight of the Kingsguard, Ser Arys Oakheart." The man smiled.  
"I thank you, my Lord, but these two were far braver than I." He gestured to Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen. _Stop calling them Prince and Princess!_ His mind was telling him, _they are no true Baratheon's, their uncle is the rightful King._ But he couldn't help it.  
They were ushered inside the warm castle as soon as they dismounted. Tommen had at last stopped crying, although his face still stayed red and his eyes looked puffy. Myrcella seemed grateful to be out of the bad weather.

  
"I can see the Prince and Princess are tired, so for that reason I have sent warm food up to their chambers. Introductions will be done in the morning, when we're better rested." He explained to the now ex-Royal children. He turned to Ser Arys. "We have prepared a bedchamber for you that is adjacent to the children, so that they only need to knock on your door if they need anything. Follow me."  
He led them up the stairs and came out on to what looked like the fourth level of the castle. A long corridor was to both sides of them. They kept walking until they stopped abruptly. Penrose looked back at them and whispered for them to keep quiet. Arys wondered what on earth was going on.  
Then he heard the giggles.  
Penrose grabbed the door handle of the door to his left and flung it open, and within an instant they could see into a bedchamber - within it a young lad.  
"Edric, you were supposed to be asleep hours ago!" Penrose scolded. Arys knew who the lad was instantly - for he looked very identical to King Robert. His brothers in the Kingsguard had spoke of the lad before too.

  
Edric Storm looked a very giddy and cheerful boy. All he wore was a long bed robe that went down to his knees. His hair was tousled and he clearly had the classic Florent ears belonging to his mother's family. "Sorry, my Lord, I tried to, but just couldn't because of the storm. I didn't want to wake the Maester up either. Instead I just read about Florain the Fool."  
"Next time you can't sleep, have the Maester prepare you a sleeping draught." Penrose said, and made to close the door, but instead Edric persisted.  
"Have the royal children. arrived yet, ser?" He could hear the boys bare feet slapping against the floor, and the lad caught the door before it was closed.  
"They have, but they're very tired. You can meet them in the morning. Go to bed." Penrose made sure the lad was reluctantly retreating before closing the door over.  
"Who was that?" Myrcella asks through a yawn.  
"One of your half-brothers, my lady." Penrose replied cheerfully.   
" _Brother_?" That seemed to wake her up. "But my only brothers are Joffrey and Tommen.."  
"Your father had.. Other children with other women." Arys whispered to her. He was sorely tempted to tell her that Robert Baratheon wasn't even her father, but she'd never understand. Thankfully Tommen didn't ask any questions, but his older sister still had a puzzled look on her face.

  
The next morning at breakfast, he escorted his two charges to the dining hall. It wasn't as large as the one in the Royal apartments in the Red Keep, but it was spacious all the same. The ceiling was very high, so echoes were common.  
Sitting at the round table was Ser Cortnay, a few other men, along with the Maester and Edric Storm. They all rose and knelt.  
The boy Edric almost darted out of his seat and rushed over to the prince and princess. Myrcella eyed him curiously, whilst Tommen looked amazed somehow.  
"Princess Myrcella, Prince Tommen, I am Edric Storm - your half-brother." The boy introduced himself with easy grace and courtesy. Ser Arys was impressed.  
"A nice boy." He mused to Ser Cortnay as he watched the children interact.  
"He's been practising his words in front of that mirror for the past hour." Penrose chuckled.  
"I'd be surprised if he hardly slept last night. There's not many other children his age in this castle, so I think he's been dying for some companionship for some time. He's always wanted siblings too." The maester of Storm's End added.  
"Does he not have half-siblings through his mother?" Arys recalled hearing some bawdy hedge knights that stayed in the Red Keep whenever King Robert staged a tourney saying that Delena Florent (who they rudely called Robert's flowery whore) had other children in the Reach.   
"Aye, lady Delena married and had two children with one of her father's household knights as punishment for mothering a bastard. One o' thems called Renly, I can't remember the other ones name for the life o' me.." The Maester replied.  
"Alester. The other one is called Alester." Arys remembered now.  
"That's the one." The Maester nodded.

  
All through breakfast the children were chatting away, even Tommen. Myrcella was a bit unsure at first, as she was still probably wondering how she'd never been told about this half-brother of hers, but she was gladly telling Edric about King's Landing and the journey to Storm's End after a while.  
"We had word from Renly about the plot." Cortnay Penrose said in a hushed voice to Arys.  
"Any news?" He wondered. Ser Arys was glad he was chosen to take Myrcella and Tommen away from the capital, - if he was made to choose between Stannis and young Joffrey, he wasn't sure he'd make the right choice. He was glad that Joffrey had been imprisoned though - the boy had made him hit Sansa Stark a good few times, and Arys hated that bit especially. He always apologised to the girl when Joffrey wasn't looking, but he wasn't sure the Stark girl always thought he was being true. _Poor girl_ , he thought, _I hope she's out of that rat pit of a capital._  
"Princess Shireen has been shipped off to Winterfell to be with her future northern Lord." Penrose informed him.  
Stannis's daughter was to wed Rickon Stark, Lord Eddard's youngest son, he knew. "When are Myrcella and Tommen to go?"  
"They could go as early as the next full moon. The Estermont's are to send their swiftest ship to us, but Lord Tarth has already dispatched us one of his great cogs." Penrose explained.  
"Is young Edric to go with them?" Arys dared to ask.  
Penrose looked very reluctant, as expected. "That is yet to be decided."  
"The boy would like the north, I think." Arys tried to persuade him. If Myrcella and Tommen had a friend with them (better that it was their own half-brother) it would help them settle in better, he knew. "There's plenty to explore around Winterfell."  
"That I do not doubt, Ser Arys. Lord Eddard is a very honourable man, his son I have heard is the same. However, I'm not a fan of having so many young nobility in the same place." Penrose voiced his doubts.

  
Ser Arys could see why Penrose was reluctant. If war ever broke out, and if Winterfell got sacked, not only would the Stark children all be either held for ransom or killed, Edric and Princess Shireen would be as well, as well as all the retainers and companions the princess had brought with her, and Margaery Tyrell too if she'd made it there yet.

  
And Myrcella and Tommen.

  
He shook those horrible thoughts from his head. The two Royal children he loved as if they were his own, he would not picture them scared with knives at their throats.   
"I understand your concerns, my Lord, but do think on it. Storm's End may be impregnable, but all it takes is someone to climb up the walls unseen and steal Edric from his room." Arys knew that last comment would likely anger Penrose, but he had to convince him somehow.

  
The children had fast wolfed down their breakfast, and it wasn't long before Princess Myrcella was wanting them to be excused to go and explore the castle. They were barely out the door before Penrose ushered him to go and keep an eye on them. _The man now thinks sensibly,_ Ser Arys Oakheart thought, _better to keep them protected in case they are actually stolen._

  
He followed them out into the yard, which was busy with castle staff. Edric showed Myrcella and Tommen the pony the lad had received on his last name day from his father King Robert. It was bay in colour and had a mane and tail so black it matched the boys hair. The boy had been teaching it tricks - for it could bow its head between its front legs and count to ten by pawing its hoof on the ground. Tommen had even fed it a carrot. _Sweet children,_ Ser Arys thought, looking at his two charges fondly. They may have their mothers looks, but they have none of her nature. He knew that Cersei was cunning and cruel, and incestuous, but her youngest children were akin to saints in his heart. _I will protect them until I die._

  
That afternoon he was guarding the children at their play on the cliffs surrounding the castle when he seen a ship on the horizon. Edric Storm was quick to notice it as well. The boy looked so excited Arys thought he might burst.  
"Can you see the ship, Ser Arys?!" The boy called to him with excitement. The wind had picked up greatly, so he had to strain to hear them from where he was standing, but he moved closer.  
"I can, Edric. What do you thinks on it?" He replied.  
"Could be a trader," Edric shrugged.   
"Ooh, maybe it has Myrish lace on it!" Myrcella was excited now too.  
As it got closer, he could see the sigil on it. _That was quick._ "The sigil on the sail is of House Estermont of Greenstone." He told the children.  
"Estermont?" Tommen was puzzled.  
"Our grandmother was an Estermont!" Edric realised, turning to his half-siblings. _Only yours was, lad,_ he thought, looking at Storm. _Tywin and Joanna Lannister are Myrcella and Tommen's grandparents on both sides_. "Lady Cassana drowned with our grandfather Steffon just down below." Edric continued.  
"Drowned?!" Myrcella sounded shocked. "But that's horrible! How did they die, could they not swim?"  
"I'm sure they tried their best. They were on a ship back from Volantis, but when they were in sight of the castle, a storm started, and a bolt of lightning struck the ship. It sunk, as did its crew and the people on it. May the Mother and Father give them ease." Edric explained the story. _This lad is smarter than Joffrey_ , Ser Arys thought, _knows his family tree, history, and may just be pious._  
"Why would the Estermont's be here, Ser Arys?" Edric asked him.  
He didn't know for sure himself. "Ser Cortnay did mention that they were dispatching a cog to take Myrcella and Tommen to Winterfell."  
Tommen seemed to pipe up at that. "Can Edric come with us to the north?"

  
All three of the children were looking at him expectantly. Edric looked like an excited puppy, and Myrcella's pretty pleading eyes were almost irresistible. "I asked Ser Cortnay that very question, and he said he would think on it. Winterfell is a long way from Storm's End though."

That didn't seem to bother the children. "Me and Tommen have been to Winterfell before, don't you remember? It was only a few moons ago, silly Ser Arys." Myrcella said, getting playful towards the end. It made him smile. _Bran Stark better cherish and love her with all his heart, else he might just have some stern words from me_. He also couldn't help but see his Kingsguard brother Ser Jaime in her face - he knew that Lannister was in fact their real father, but he'd never noticed how much his children resembled him as well as Cersei.

When the children finally decided it was getting too windy, they headed back inside the safe walls of the castle. Some men with the Estermont sigil were milling about the yard, and the maester was in conversation with a few of them. Ser Cortnay was also about - he looked like he was inspecting crates.

  
A while passed, and Ser Arys now wouldn't be seeing Myrcella and Tommen until supper that night, as the maester insisted that Edric was to have a lesson and invited the Royal children to join them, so he had a whole afternoon to himself. He didn't have much to do - he initially started sharpening and cleaning his sword and daggers, but they didn't need much doing to them as he'd barely used them on the journey to the Stormlands, so it barely took two minutes to do. He took off his armour and cleaned it, and even had a servant take his white cloak away for washing. He rinsed himself clean as well. After running out of things to do, he did get quite bored - and time seemed to be passing by slower. He decided to nap, and hoped they'd remember to collect him for dinner.

  
He woke up with a start. He had no clue how much time had passed, but when he glanced at his window, the sun was clearly setting. What had woken Arys up was the noise of children running out in the corridor. He heard squeals, and recognised Myrcella's gleeful laughter. He could hear Tommen as well, for the boy was giggling but speaking. All that could be heard after that was the sound of both their chamber doors shutting.

  
Ser Arys sat up in his bed. _It seems I must prepare for supper_. He hadn't brought much with him - for Renly had briefed him before unceremoniously sending him on his way with his charges, so he had barely had enough time to shove some random clothes into a sack. He managed to fit together a new pair of breeches and a woolen doublet, and fitted it with a woollen white cloak that he'd wear whilst his silken one was getting washed.

  
He collected Myrcella and Tommen once he was ready. They were still buzzing, it seemed, as they told him all about their lesson with the maester, who was called Wylis. Ser Arys couldn't understand how a simple history lesson was so fun to them, but he didn't ask questions.

  
They met up with Ser Cortnay and the others in the dining hall. Edric all but jogged up to his half siblings and took them by the hand to the table, where they sat either side of him.   _I wonder if Penrose has made his decision yet,_ Arys Oakheart thought, _Myrcella and Tommen wouldn't be happy if Edric didn't go to Winterfell with them._  
He took his seat next to maester Wylis, who was in turn sat to Penrose's left. For supper that night was a creamy potato and leek soup, followed by a ham fresh from the spit. Ser Arys had just cut himself a slice when Ser Cortnay spoke up. "I have made arrangements concerning the prince and princess' journey to Winterfell."

  
Edric Storm had almost comically fallen silent, as had Myrcella and Tommen, their eyes wide with anticipation. Hells, even Ser Arys was eager to know. "Edric, it has been decided that you shall go to Dragonstone instead, for there is already an influx of children at Winterfell."  
The look on Robert Baratheon's bastard son's face was disappointed. "But why, Ser Cortnay? If there's already children at Winterfell, how will the addition of one more be a burden?"  
 _Let's pray the boy doesn't have the anger of his father_. Ser Arys had never been scared of King Robert, but his shouts were enough to make any bold man think twice about their next actions. "It was by the word of your uncle, King Stannis. Besides, the Lannister's have finally stirred, and it would be disastrous if you met them on the road. Dragonstone is as safe as Winterfell though. Also, your uncle Renly is thinking about making you a squire." Ser Cortnay replied.  
"Who is taking us north, Ser Penrose? And will we have companions?" Myrcella was all courtesy and grace.  
"You've probably noticed the ship bearing House Estermont's turtle in the bay - his own flagship is to take you as far north as White Harbour. Selwyn Tarth's cog will also be coming to take Edric to Dragonstone. Robb Stark wrote Renly and assured him that you and Prince Tommen shall have a northern honoury escort to take you to Winterfell, composed of the Manderly's, Slate's, Woolfield's and even some Waterman's. If the winds and gods are good, you should also arrive just in time for a harvest feast where most northern houses will be gathered." Maester Wylis explained next to Ser Arys. The man paused for a moment before continuing. "We were hoping that Rosamund and Janei Lannister might be able to accompany you as you're distant kin to them, but with your grandfather raising his banners, it seems impossible they'll be able to go."  
"I'm assuming I'll be going with them?" Ser Arys spoke up.  
"You shall be, as you are Kingsguard." Ser Cortnay replied, but there was something in his eyes that showed doubt. Myrcella and Tommen looked relieved at that statement though.  
"Am I to marry lady Arya?" Tommen asked after a minute.  
"The lady Arya won't like to be married, but yes, a betrothal for you two is in place." Ser Cortnay answered.

  
"Did you hear the absurd claim that Lord Eddard's own ward is to marry Princess Arianne Martell of Dorne?" A man who Ser Arys assumed was Storm's End's captain of guard guffawed at the edge of the table.  
"The Greyjoy boy?" The maester perked up. "Truly?"  
"Aye, Renly penned as much to me when this whole plot started to stir. It is true." Ser Cortnay confirmed it.  
"This must be one for the history tomes - I don't ever think the Martell's have stooped so low as to marry the squids." The same captain of guard mocked. "But then again, who else would even be willing to marry the boy? Nobody of major account. It's said that he Dornish will bed anything with working genitals-"  
"-Mind your tongue, Ser, the prince and princess are only children." Ser Arys cut in. He enjoyed banter, but there were some things that children - especially noble ones - should never hear. The captain of guard studied Arys cooly for a second before apologising to Myrcella and Tommen, who said it was okay. The man then shrugged before going back to his meal.

Arys then laid eyes on Edric Storm for a few moments - the boy looked gloomy and resigned, but was still whispering to his half-siblings from time to time and smiling.   
A thought then came to Arys Oakheart as the table was in conversation once again. He turned to Maester Wylis. "What about Lord Robert Arryn?"  
The maester didn't comprehend. "What about the boy, Ser?"  
"I don't remember there being any mention of him in this whole plot. Has Lady Lysa even sent correspondence?" He asked.  
"Lady Lysa has never been the same since marrying Lord Jon, all agree. The day her husband died, she fled the Red Keep in the night with little Lord Robert and took all her knights with her. The talk is that King Robert was going to foster the boy with the Lannister's, and Lady Arryn couldn't bear the mere thought. To be true, she's safely shut up in the Eyrie and even though both Stannis and Renly sent ravens and marriage proposals for her son - Princess Myrcella was even briefly thought of as a suitor for the lad, before Lord Eddard nominated his Brandon, - but there was never any reply." Wylis whispered and gossiped. "But we can be sure that she'd never side with the Lannister's for a certainty - she is Lady Catelyn's own sister, and Lord Edmure's. Her father still rules Riverrun too, so she's still closely tied to us."

  
That eased his mind, except the part about the boy being briefly betrothed to Myrcella - from the little Ser Arys had seen of the little Lord Robert Arryn during the boys time in the Red Keep, the boy was so small he'd pass as a three year old instead of a six year old. He wasn't particularly robust either - he was always prone to shakes and trembles, along with a dreadful case of snotty nose. The boy would also cry whenever somebody took away his dolls - Joffrey had gotten a firm telling-off once when he ripped one out of the boys grasp, as Robert Arryn's wails could be heard from even the courtyard. He'd heard about the ordeal from Ser Preston Greenfield in the White Sword Tower that evening during their changes in shifts. Apparently Joffrey has thrown a tantrum which had only made Robert Arryn trumpet louder and Cersei had been heard to call Lysa Arryn a cow and a bitch under her breath as she was walking away.

 _Thank the gods Myrcella and Tommen are better behaved_. Myrcella would probably never like Lord Robert if they were wed, for she was a bold and outgoing lass whilst Arryn was a weepy and sheltered boy.

  
After supper concluded that evening, Ser Arys seen his two charges safely back to their own chambers. Edric accompanied him on the way, as he wanted to say farewell to Myrcella and Tommen due to the fact they were departing Storm's End on the morning tide. Edric Storm still complained about how unfair it was that he wouldn't be going with them to Winterfell, but Myrcella reassured the boy. "We will write to you, we promise! We'll send a raven every week, won't we Tommen?"  
"We will." Tommen Baratheon proclaimed.  
Edric still didn't look convinced. Arys decided to cheer the boy up himself. "Maybe your uncle Stannis does intend to send you to Winterfell, but is only wanting to see you first?"  
Edric did look hopeful. "That makes sense, he's never met me. Will he like me, Ser Arys?"   
Arys nodded, as he couldn't bring it upon himself to tell the boy that the King would likely hate him due to the whole fiasco of Stannis's own wedding night.

  
After hugging his half-siblings for a good while, Edric reluctantly left them to head back to his own chambers with one last wave. Arys pitied the boy, truly. When they left tomorrow, Edric Storm would be back to being lonely with only adults for company. _His mother should surely remedy that,_ he wondered, _she has two additional sons, why doesn't she send them? Does she even write letters to poor Edric?_

He went to bed that night dreaming of simpler times, when he was a boy at Old Oak.


	22. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm generous, here's another chapter ;)
> 
> It takes place right after the last Quentyn chapter 
> 
> Also, how do we all feel about the final Game of Thrones episode? I feel sad it's over - despite some bad writing I found the eight season mostly enjoyable.

  
Sansa had never felt so alive nor wicked in the moment she had Quentyn Martell, the Prince of Dorne, up against a pillar, kissing his face off.  _You are a child!_ Her brain was screaming at her. _You haven't even had your first moon blood and here you are, kissing your prince down a dark corridor._

Her Prince had been severely awkward at first - it was like kissing a stone wall. It was clear that he'd never kissed a woman properly before. But she done everything her girls had told her to do - she ran one hand down his chest and the other through his hair, as Genna and Amelia had recommended. Jorelle, Eddara and Eleyna were far too young to exactly be called experts on boys, but they suggested that she should be bold. Rhea, who had apparently kissed many stable and pot boys back at Greenstone, recommended that she 'use her tongue' - whatever that bloody meant. Jeyne somehow had the knowledge that whispering in his ear would spur him on. It seemed to all be working - Quentyn had came alive under her touch and was becoming a better kisser by the second.

  
They finally pulled away for breath. She grinned mischievously at him. "Sansa.." Was all he could say in a dreamy haze. He was looking at her in a way that made her tingle - as if she was some angel the Seven had sent down to grace him.

  
She suddenly realised that she really had no explanation as to why she'd done that. Their day together in the Sunspear markets had gone well, and they were starting to like each other (she thought), but had she just gone and ruined it all? What if he took offence and started beating her and berating her like Joffrey?! All of a sudden, she started to shake. "Quent, I'm sorry, I-"  
He softened. "Hey, hey, what's wrong, sweet one?" He murmured with wide eyes. His gentleness reminded Sansa of her father. _Father_. What would he do if he saw how wicked she'd become? It wasn't ladylike to shove your betrothed up against a pillar in a dark corridor and snog his brains out. And mother.. She wouldn't of approved either.

  
"I don't know what came over me, t-the girls.. My ladies d-dared me to.." She blurted out all at once through blurred eyes. They didn't dare her - she'd basically thought of it herself, but they did dare her to do the things they recommended her.  
"Thank the Mother Rhoyne they did." Quentyn said. "That was magical."  
Sansa's tension died down. "Truly?"  
"It should be me apologising, not you! I was _so_ bad, so inexperienced-"  
"-You weren't. With every passing minute, you had the same passion as me." She giggled and gently tilted his head up to look into hers.  
His eyes went dreamy again. "You are truly amazing, Sansa. You are the light of the sun."  
That made her heart flutter and her face turn beet red. She would have pulled him in for another kiss, but then she heard footsteps. "Come on," she whispered to him urgently. "They'll think we're being awfully suspicious."

  
They stepped out of the dark corridor and made their way back to the staircase. It was then that Sansa wondered just how long they'd been kissing for. Septa Mordane and Alyn were then walking towards them. "Goodness sake, Sansa, what did you have to tell Prince Quentyn that was so urgent right before the feast?" Septa Mordane almost shrieked.   
"Apologies, Septa, my lady was only asking about her wolf and if she could send her family a letter." Quentyn answered, all sophisticated. _He's a good liar,_ Sansa thought as she went along with his act. She prayed she wasn't smirking or going red. She glanced to Alyn - he was looking at her with a curious look, as if he could see through Quent's lie. She quickly looked away.

  
They entered the dining hall to find everyone's eyes on them. Her ladies were winking and grinning, and she pursed her lips together to try and contain her smile and blush.  
She and Quentyn sat at the top of the table again - with Arianne, Oberyn, Ellaria and Doran already there. Areo Hotah was standing as still as a statue behind Prince Doran, keeping vigil with his huge longaxe in his hands.  
Arianne was sat to her left. The princess looked as beautiful as ever. "You've certainly had a busy first few days here." The woman smiled. "Most girls would never want to explore Sunspear only a day after arriving."  
Sansa grinned. "I'm from the North, we're made of tougher stuff."  
Arianne looked impressed. "You certainly are - you've certainly come out stronger after what that horrible boy Joffrey did to you."

  
Hearing those words from Arianne made Sansa feel strong, powerful, and proud. She knew she wasn't the only girl to ever be treated badly by a boy - in fact, she'd only ever been subject to beatings, tauntings and hard grips which left bruises, - she'd never been abused in a sexual way. There were girls out there being raped every second, not only in Westeros, but in distant lands, and they all had it worse than her, she knew. But yet she still felt determined.

  
Her thoughts were disturbed by the servants, who came in to serve the main course - a massive ham that was so long it took six servants to carry the platter in. It was also served with potatoes and surprisingly - honeyed locusts, which Sansa had never tried before.   
As the servants were cutting the meat and serving everyone around the table, she whispered to Quentyn. "Are locusts nice to eat?"  
"I like them, personally. Lord Yronwood always had them around for snacking, so I've had my fair share of them in my lifetime." He then looked into her eyes. "Have you ever tried them?"  
"We don't do locusts in the north," she shook her head. She didn't like the look of them - they were _insects_! Who would want to eat something so grubby? _You must not disappoint the Dornish,_ Septa Mordane had told her on the warship _Torrhen Stark_ , just as they were rounding Tarth, _you have to be strong for them.  
I can be strong, _Sansa told herself. _I will fit into Dornish culture as I did at court in King's Landing._

  
The servant had cut her three slices of the ham and given her a handful of potatoes, along with a small bowl filled with the damned locusts that were both dipped and drizzled in honey. She wanted to save eating them until last, for they were sure to make her fingers sticky. Looking down the table, her ladies in-waiting were eating well (at least on the ham and potatoes anyway - only Eddara and Eleanor had tried the honeyed locusts as of yet, and their reactions were mixed). The Sand Snakes were the polar opposite - all of them except Loreza were practically gorging on the honeyed locusts as if they were their most favourite thing in the world. Dorea had even taken Loreza's small bowl full of untouched locusts and claimed them for herself.

  
After finishing her proper food, Sansa prepared herself to eat the honeyed locusts. She picked one up, and the mere feeling of it between her fingers almost made her drop it abruptly and feel queasy. But she couldn't do that - not here, not with her future husband's family around her. She could see that Arianne had stopped eating briefly beside her - which could only mean that she was waiting to see Sansa's reaction to the taste.  
She counted to three, and shoved the locust into her mouth.

  
On the first bite, she wanted to spit it back out on to a handkerchief. _You cannot insult Prince Doran,_ a voice that suspiciously sounded like Septa Mordane told her in her head. Then her mother's voice was there saying, _You must eat everything placed before you, and must not balk at the mere appearance of something as small as a locust_.  
So she kept chewing. Sarella and Tyene were giving her looks of encouragement from down the table. After every chew, the bad taste somehow became a nice taste, and soon Sansa wanted nothing more than to eat all the honeyed locusts in the world.

  
"These are delightful!" She proclaimed to Arianne. She then leaned forward to try and thank Prince Doran for his hospitality, but he was in conversation with his brother.   
"I knew you would like them," Quentyn said warmly beside her as he laid a hand on her shoulder. She could hear her ladies giggling down the table and somehow felt their eyes on her and her betrothed.   
She then had an idea. "When we are wed, we'll have to outlaw the honey though." She whispered to him with a wicked smile.   
"What, why?" His face was comically confused.  
"Because I'll be all the sweetness you'll want," she said, boldly and cheekily.  
She watched as his face lit up and he grinned. "I'll hold you to that promise on our wedding night, San."

  
 _Our wedding night_. Septa Mordane had instructed Sansa in what happened during a bedding ceremony very briefly, but she knew it was important. _I'll have to perform_ , she thought, _the both of us will, and he'll have to spill his seed inside me for us to have a child..._  
But she had ages until that day. For them to wed and bed, she had to flower first. She remembered that Lyanna's first flowering happened when she was a few days shy of her fourteenth name day, so maybe Sansa's would be the same, or arrive later than that? Some girls didn't flower until they were sixteen or seventeen, depending on how developed they were. Rhea had been eleven when her first moon blood arrived - her and Eleanor were the only ones out of Sansa's ladies to have flowered as of yet.

  
As she was drinking a cup of Dornish red, Quentyn's hand went to her right thigh. "I'm up for more kissing after this feast,"  
Her whole body fluttered. "So am I. But how will we go about it?" She replied in a quiet tone. His face was merely four inches from hers, and they were probably being watched..  
"We could go back to our dark corridor, if it's still dark." Quentyn whispered directly into her ear, and he even nibbled her earlobe slightly, causing her to blush. _Let's pray we don't go further than kissing._

 _  
_It seemed to Sansa that time suddenly slowed down, as the feast seemed to drag on and on and people kept eating. When Doran finally signalled an end to the supper, Sansa all but leaped out of her seat hand in hand with Quent. Arianne looked mischievous, as did Elia Sand and Nymeria. _Oh gods,_ Sansa realised, _we weren't that obvious, were we? Were we actually whispering, or did I just imagine we did?_

  
She quickly looked to her future father by-law, who seemed to be none the wiser as he bid everyone good night. When he mouthed good night to her and Quentyn, he looked neutral. _What on earth would he have done if he heard us_?  
Jeyne and the rest of Sansa's ladies flocked to her and Quent. _Oh no, what are they doing? I need to think of an excuse!_  
"The feast was lovely, Prince Quentyn, your father once again has outshone himself with hospitality." Eleyna Westerling said, all grace.  
"Did you enjoy the honeyed locusts, ladies?" Quentyn asked with a knowing smile. Half of her ladies nodded their heads whilst the other half of them shook their heads, causing them to giggle.

  
The girls were talking to Quentyn about something Sansa didn't care about, as she had zoned out and was desperate for them to get away to that corridor again. She heard a voice in her ear though. "You and Quentyn were really obvious in your flirting."  
She spun around, and there was Elia Sand. "I'm warming to him as I am warming to your culture and food." She replied with a sly grin.  
Elia seemed impressed. "Have you had your merry way with him yet?"  
Sansa was about to say yes, until she realised that Elia was really asking if she'd bedded him yet. "Hardly, I haven't flowered, and we're waiting till our wedding night."  
Elia just shrugged and smirked. "How noble of you. I just wondered - you both came in looking slightly dishevelled and blushed."  
She groaned. "Oh gods, did it really look like that?"  
"To a mind like mine, yes. But hey, don't worry, there's no shame in making love." Elia reasoned, as if Dorne was akin to the Summer Islands, where making love was celebrated and respected.  
"When are you next seeing that Ryon Sand?" Sansa asked, and smirked as Elia blushed.   
"He has to go back to Vaith, so who knows - could be a year until I see him again. But I'm sure I'll find a another boy to fill his void." Elia paused. "Anyhow, I'm rather tired, so I shall leave you here. If you save me a seat beside you tomorrow when we are breaking our fast, I shall tell you how to entrance a boy." Elia murmured.

  
Sansa rolled her eyes in a joking manner before saying farewell to Elia Sand. _We've certainly come along way in the space of two days._ Just yesterday, Elia Sand rode into Sunspear's courtyard and publicly embarrassed Sansa, but now the girl had warmed to her.   
When she turned back around, Amelia Caswell linked her arm through hers. "Are we retiring to your chamber, Sansa?"

  
She quickly glanced at Quentyn, who had a hungry look in his eye. "Quentyn was actually just going to show me where Lady is being kept, so that I know where she is when I go visit her. You all go on upstairs though, I'll be back in half an hour or so." She said, hoping it would convince them. The last thing she needed was for them to ask if they could come too.

  
The girls respected her decision, and left the room. Sansa and Quentyn waited until they heard them going up the staircase and heard the chamber door shut before they slinked quietly back up the stairs to their dark corridor.

  
When they got there, she wasted no time in basically shoving him up against the wall and joining her mouth to his.  
The kissing felt like it had gone on for years before they stopped for a breather. They smiled dreamily at each other, with Quent's fingers stroking her cheek. When he moved to kiss her again, she felt something rub against her thigh, and when she chanced a glance down she was rather surprised. _Oh.. That's his manhood.._

  
She knew that Quentyn was a year older than her, but she didn't think he'd be so eager in that sense.. She knew what it meant when men got excited in that manner. How long had he been feeling like that? Had he been that excited all the way throughout the feast?  
The way he was moving was almost perfect. Sansa had once felt perfect with Joffrey, but nobody could compare to Quentyn in this moment. Whilst her prince was rather plain looking, he made up for it in other ways.

  
They engrossed in kissing some more. She heard Quent say her name. _Wait a minute.._ His mouth was practically adjoined with hers, how was he able to speak?  
"Sansa! Quentyn!"  
She suddenly realised that none of them were speaking - and that they had been caught.

  
They tore apart quickly, and turned their heads at whoever was speaking at exactly the same time. They must've looked like they'd seen a ghost.  
Standing at the corridors entrance was Oberyn and Ellaria.  
 _Oh no,_ she thought, _I hope Quent's gone soft.._

  
If she thought Oberyn would be angry, she was very mistaken. The Prince looked utterly delighted and cheeky. Ellaria was the same, she was trying to contain mirthful laughter. "Nephew, all you had to do was ask me where the most private places in Sunspear were, and I would have showed you!" Oberyn jested.  
Sansa giggled nervously, as did Quentyn. "Please don't tell father, uncle. He'll never let me love this down.."  
"Your father would just roll his eyes and smirk if I told him. With me however - I would be the one who wouldn't let you live this down." Oberyn burst out laughing at Quent's expression.  
"Uncle! Please don't! Your daughters will tease me until my death day!" Her betrothed sounded like a child who'd just been caught stealing sweets.  
"Did my nephew please you, Princess Sansa?" Oberyn's merry eyes were gleeful as he turned to her.  
She couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, he was just perfect."  
"I can tell he found you perfect," Oberyn then eyed his nephew - and his eyes kept going lower. "Down, boy."  
Ellaria was still laughing and looked like she was actually crying of laughter. Sansa laughed as Quentyn blushed amazingly red, trying to adjust his breeches. "How did you find us, uncle?" Was all he mumbled.  
"We seen you walking about the castle as if you two were as thick as thieves, so we hung back and watched you." Ellaria answered, rubbing her face of the tears of laughter.  
"Go get some rest now, you too, soon the castle will be dark." Oberyn said before taking Ellaria by the arm and flaunting back to their chambers.

  
She turned to her betrothed. "Come to think of it, where are the most private parts of this castle?" She grinned at him.  
He warmly smiled. "I know of a few, but we'll find them another day. I'll escort you back to your chamber, San."

  
When they were outside her chamber door, they stared at one another for a few seconds before sniggering and collided their mouths once again for a passionate and quick kiss. After that, Quentyn kissed her cheek and hand before saying goodbye. She wished him farewell and watched him head back to his own chambers. _I cannot wait for the day we are married_ , she thought, giddy, _for we will share a chamber and bed, and we can kiss for however long we want._

  
She entered her chamber and was greeted by the sight of all her ladies sat on her bed, huddled around something. "Girls, what's the matter?" She asked as she made her way over to the bed.  
"We came in, and there was this letter sealed on your bed. We didn't mean to open it, truly, we were going to wait until you returned, but we had a feeling it was going to be bad." Jorelle Mormont explained, with Genna Umber clutching on to her arm looking scared. Genna was the youngest of her ladies, only seven. She was one of the various daughters of the massive Greatjon Umber, who was loud and boisterous. Genna was fierce in her own way, - she reminded Sansa of Arya a little bit, as she liked swords and daggers and horses, but Genna was after all still a child, and was prone to wariness and wide eyes.

  
"Pass it here," Sansa instructed as she wedges herself into a space beside Eleanor and Eleyna. Rhea handed her the letter, and she instantly looked at the open seal to identify who the sender was. It was a dark green seal, and the sigil was a mockingbird. Who on earth has a mockingbird sigil? She had dutifully studied most of the sigils of the Westerosi houses, but she couldn't for the life of her recognise this one. Maybe it was a newly formed House.  
She then read the letter.

  
" _Lady Sansa,  
You may remember me from your father's tourney. I knew your mother well. I cannot pen my name as this may be intercepted. Something drastic has happened and I thought you must know, for news wouldn't have reached Dorne for another month otherwise. Your father and your sister Arya were captured by Ser Jaime Lannister after Ser Jaime attacked your father in the streets of Duskendale. The Rykker's revealed themselves to be Joffrey's 'loyal bannermen' and then arrested your sister. They are now back in King's Landing in prison cells. Stannis is King, but he's been lingering on Dragonstone for three weeks and Renly has fled back to Highgarden. Ser Barristan has stepped up to be castellan but might not be for much longer."_

She felt dread flood her all at once.

  
Her father had been injured and captured but the Kingslayer, and Arya had likely been harmed in some way - unless they dragged her kicking and screaming, they would have certainly knocked her out. _No no no_ , Sansa's head was spinning, _this can't happen_.

  
Her ladies were all around her, comforting her. She couldn't see them through her teary, glassy eyes. She then wondered about her mother - she'd been in Duskendale too, had she avoided capture? Or were the Rykker's holding her prisoner in the Dun Fort? Her thoughts then went to Sybelle Rykker, who she had thought of as a friend. _Not anymore._ For all she knew, Sybelle could have reported everything Sansa said back to her parents - the stupid 'loyal supporters' of Joffrey.

  
 _Why hasn't anyone killed Joffrey yet? And the Queen?!_ She thought angrily. _It should have been the first priority of Stannis and Renly!_  
She wondered what on earth Stannis Baratheon was doing - he'd somehow left King's Landing as soon as he was crowned to linger on Dragonstone. She wondered what on earth the King was thinking, but she prayed that he'd come back with all his strength and get her father and sister out of prison.

  
After a while, her ladies readied her for sleep, and she climbed in to her bed. Every night she chose one of them to accompany her in the big bed, and tonight it was Eddara Tallhart's turn. The girl was a year younger than Sansa, and her father Lord Leobald Tallhart was one of Lord Eddard's most loyal bannermen (which explained her name). Eddara was a tall girl, slim with long straight hair that was now curly due to it being in a tight braid all day. It was dark in the room, but there was still some moonlight shining through small gaps in the curtains. Sansa reached out and twirled a lock of the girls light brown hair around her fingers. Eddara looked at her. "I hope your father and sister will be okay, Sansa."  
She felt sad again, but forced herself to smile. "I hope so too, Eddara. I wonder if Jeyne's father was also captured..." Jeyne's father, Vayon Poole, was Winterfell's Steward and had came south with them. Hells, the man might even be dead..  
"Eddara," she whispered, careful to be quiet as the rest of her ladies slept in the adjoining room. "Do you know any songs?"  
She could just make out Eddara Tallhart blinking a few times, as if in thought. "I only know a sad one. Jenny of Oldstones."  
Sansa felt deflated. She knew almost every song that circulated the kingdoms, and Jenny of Oldstones always made her feel sad as the song was tragic. She sighed quietly though. "Can you sing me it? You could whisper it as well, I don't care. I just want to hear it."  
Eddara Tallhart took a minute to prepare. Then she sang it (quietly).

" _High in the halls of the kings who are gone_  
Jenny would dance with her ghosts  
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found  
And the ones who had loved her the most

 _The ones who'd been gone for so very long_  
She couldn't remember their names  
They spun her around on the damp old stones  
Spun away all her sorrow and pain

 _And she never wanted to leave_  
Never wanted to leave  
Never wanted to leave"

As she listened to Eddara softly sing the last few verses of the song, Sansa closed her eyes and thought of Quentyn, who was probably peacefully sleeping in his chamber. _How very apt, I never want to leave either._ She felt a spark and a soft tug on her heart, and couldn't help but smile. _I am falling in love with Quentyn Martell._  
  


 


	23. Lyanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens immediately after the previous Lyanna chapter :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little pre-warning that this chapter mentions a character getting raped and physically harmed. If you are not comfortable reading that sort of thing please don't feel pressured to continue reading.

  
Howland and his children left her alone with Ashara after that. For a good few minutes, Lyanna was frozen to the spot, unable to even comprehend who was in front of her. Ashara Dayne had lied to the whole country practically for night on sixteen years. She hadn't committed suicide at all - she was very much alive.  
"I know what you're thinking." Ashara placed her hands on hers. They were soft and warm.  
"H-how?" Was all she could say.  
"I shall answer any question you might have." Ashara reassured her.  
That was the thing - Lyanna had so many damned questions that she didn't know where to start.   
"The story about your death is almost famous - how on earth did you fake it?!" Lyanna asked, still bewildered.  
"We had two wet nurses at Starfall - Wylla and Eryn. They were cousins, but they looked very much alike. Eryn herself was pregnant with our master of horse's child. The day before your father and Howland arrived to.." Ashara paused before continuing. "...Return Arthur's body and sword, Eryn went into labour. It was quite a quick birth - she birthed a daughter, only, it was stillborn."  
"Eryn did end up dying from childbirth, which gave us an opportunity. My parents would never let me marry somebody from such a small noble house, and Eryn had dark hair just like mine. If we could pull off a risky but harsh trick, then I could easily leave to be with Howland. So I had one of my servants take Eryn's body to the top of the Palestone Tower and when we knew for a certain my parents were on their balcony terrace below-"  
"-You flung Eryn's body off." Lyanna guessed.   
Ashara nodded, but she now looked sad. "It was a cruel thing to do - I could hear even from the secret passageways my parents grief and screams. Sometimes, I even think of writing them, to tell them the truth that I am alive and it wasn't me that died, that they in fact have two grandchildren.. It hurts, but sometimes we have to do things for the greater good."  
Lyanna studied the gorgeous woman's face. Her purple eyes were now teary after talking about poor Lord and Lady Dayne, who had falsely lived with grief for years (if they were still alive, that is).

  
Lyanna tried to think of more questions. "How on earth did you not get recognised on the road?- it's a long way from Dorne to here."   
"I had a hood on my head. Also, a month into the journey, my pregnancy started to show." Ashara replied, and one of her hands went to unconsciously rub her stomach, as if there was still a bump there. "When we were a week away from the Dornish border, and we knew that nobody was going to come after us, me and Howland married each other with your father performing the rites."

  
That made Lyanna smile, as she tried to picture her father dressed in Septon's robes and overseeing a marriage. _Those rumours about my father and Ashara being Jon's parents are now well and truly quenched._ She thought. She'd heard plenty of whispers about who her half-brother Jon's mother was - some whispered it was Ashara, some others thought it was just some whore Eddard Stark had tumbled. She'd also heard that her uncle Brandon had an affair with Ashara, but that was only gossip.

  
She then turned her thoughts back to Ashara. _This woman knew my aunt and my uncle._ "You knew my uncle Brandon and aunt Lyanna," she started to say, "I just want to know - what were they like?"  
Ashara smiled warmly. "Your uncle Brandon.. When he first walked into Harrenhal he strutted about as though he owned the place. You probably know that I was once a companion of Princess Elia's - we all thought he looked pompous and arrogant. He was all chivalry when he came up to me to ask if I could dance with your father though," she laughed softly. Lyanna smiled too. Ashara continued reminiscing. "Lyanna though... Well, she was certainly a sight. There was an aura about her that caused many people to physically gawk her way. After all these years, I think it was probably her boldness. She was all mischief and cheek, but she was truly iron."

  
Lyanna liked hearing about her uncle and aunt that she never knew. It felt good to have a connection with them - so many people said that she was like her namesake aunt, but when her father could barely talk about his long-dead sister without tearing up it was hard to learn the truth. She didn't even know what her aunt looked like - all she knew was that she and Arya looked and behaved like her. _They say she had the wolf blood, and so do I._

  
She also liked knowing about her uncle Brandon - who could have so easily been her father had Rhaegar Targaryen not kidnapped her aunt. It was a weird thought. Her uncle Brandon had been betrothed to her mother, but when he died in King's Landing it was her father that married her instead. _I'm also like uncle Brandon, in a way._

  
They continued speaking for what felt like hours - Howland had eventually rapped the door and said it was well into the hour of the wolf. Lyanna as if on cue started feeling tired and groggy, so she took her leave. Ashara walked her arm in arm to the door. "It's sad that you leave on the morrow."  
"I know, but I have to get back to my family, on my lord father's orders. My twin, Robb.. I have to help him rule the North and Winterfell in our fathers absence, and he said he'd kill me if I ever missed his wedding day." Lyanna explained, laughing at the end.  
Howland's eyes were wide. "Your brother is getting married?"  
"Yes, to lady Margaery Tyrell, of Highgarden." She answered.  
At that, Howland's face was comical. "I thought he'd surely be marrying Rickard Karstark's daughter - that was the gossip even here in the Neck."  
"Not at all. My sister Sansa is in Dorne to marry Quentyn Martell, my youngest sister Arya is to marry Tommen Baratheon. Bran is to marry Myrcella Baratheon, and Rickon is to wed Shireen Baratheon," when she explained the betrothals, even Ashara looked shocked.  
It was then that Lyanna remembered - she almost forgot Theon. "Oh yes, and my father's ward Theon Greyjoy is to wed Princess Arianne Martell."  
"Gods," Ashara Dayne was stunned. "The Martell's have never wed the Greyjoy's.."  
"What about you, Lyanna? Why aren't you betrothed to anyone?" Howland asked.  
Lyanna didn't actually know. "No clue, but I'm sure I'll be swept off my feet by some boy or man at some point."

  
Lyanna did think it was rather odd how she wasn't included in these marriage pacts whilst Arya and Rickon, who was only three, were. Then again, she had said countless times to her father that she didn't want to marry some boy or man she never knew - she'd choose a husband herself, someone who respected her. The closest she'd gotten to that was with Domeric Bolton.

  
 _Poor Domeric,_ she thought. She had almost been betrothed to the boy. It was common knowledge that Roose Bolton had a bastard son called Ramsay, but he once had a true born son in the shape of Domeric. Domeric was handsome in his own way, but was quiet and reserved. She had met him only once, but he was kind. The boy had served four years as a page with his aunt in Barrowton before squiring for Horton Redfort of the Vale. Domeric had longed for a brother of his own and had seeked Ramsay out, but suspiciously died of a sickness to the bowels a few years ago. Many whispered that Ramsay had killed Domeric himself to become Roose's only son - and she was inclined to believe it.

  
After two weeks, they reached Moat Cailin.  
When they reached the Moat, Lyanna had sent a raven to her twin. " _Robb, it is me, Lyanna. I am almost home, brother! When you see a Stark banner coming up the Kingsroad, ride out and meet me!"_ She had wrote.

  
After another perilous week and a half of travelling, which had included many gales of wind buffeting them and rain storms that lasted half the day, they were in sight of Winterfell.  
"Tommard, Pate, raise the Stark banner higher! Robb has to be able to see it!" She commanded Fat Tom and Pate. She couldn't hide the excitedness out of her voice - she was finally home! Just a few leagues away were Robb, Bran, Rickon, and Theon. She was shaking with anticipation, and her hands were sweating as she gripped her reins.

  
As they trotted their way to Winterfell, they could just make out a whole bunch of people riding out its gates. _Gods, I wonder if any of my future sisters by-law have arrived yet,_ she wondered.

  
As they got closer and closer, it was Robb, riding out to meet them as she instructed. She yearned to also see Bran ahorse again, and wondered if Rickon had even had riding lessons yet.

  
The two parties of people were now barely thirty metres away from each other.  
"I can't take this anymore," Lyanna said in a shaky tone.  
"My lady?" Fat Tom looked confused.  
"ROBB!" Was all she shouted before she virtually vaulted off her horse and sprinted towards her twin. She could vaguely hear Pate calling out "Watch yourself, m'lady!" but she paid him no heed. Robb had also taken the same initiative - he vaulted off his horse and was also charging towards her like an excited boy.

  
They slowed their paces slightly as they came closer, so that they wouldn't crash. Lyanna didn't care how childish she looked in that moment - she was back with her twin. They both opened their arms and engulfed each other in a massive hug, - Lyanna was even squealing into his furs. He smelled fresh, and was muscled, but his shoulders felt tense. She hoped lordship was treating him kindly - which wasn't bloody likely.

  
When she looked at his face, she did think that he looked changed. He somehow had a tiredness to him even though he wasn't displaying it as of now. He'd lost weight in his face as it was now more chiselled.  
"Lya!" Was all Robb managed to say in the happiest voice as he spun her around yet again and placed a giant kiss on her forehead. He looked elated, as did she probably.  
"Robb, brother, I am home." She whispered to him, as if she wasn't able to believe it herself. "Where are Bran and Rickon? Theon?"  
His smile faltered slightly. "It was odd.. Bran woke up after his fall and was able to walk fine, as if he was back to normal, but then he woke up one morning and found his legs useless.. They're both here somewhere, as is Theon." He paused. "I have something to tell you, after."  
"After," she agreed. She wanted to be happy, not sad. It was then she noticed the party out of Winterfell - she seen numerous banners. _Oh gods, princess Shireen has arrived already?!_ She didn't think she'd be meeting the Princess of Dragonstone straight away. Then she noticed other banners. _The Velaryon's of Driftmark, truly?!_

  
Robb seemed to read her mind. "My lords, my ladies, my guests - may I introduce my twin sister, Lyanna." He said to his people as he placed her back on the ground.   
An older woman stepped forward, with two young children each by her side. "M'lady, it is an honour to finally meet you. I'm Marya Seaworth, of the Rainwood, and these are my two sons Stannis and Steffon."

She didn't look noble to Lyanna, but she had heard that Davos Seaworth's wife was just a carpenters daughter with a noble name. They apparently had seven children together. How pious. She thought. Her son's were very sweet, they even reminded Lyanna of her own youngest brothers.

  
The Velaryon banner was then moving forward. Two young children, a brother and a sister who looked to be Arya's age if not older looked up at her. The boy started speaking. "My lady, I am Matarys Velaryon, and this my sister Valaena Velaryon, of Driftmark. We, like the Seaworth's, are companions of Princess Shireen."  
Matarys Velaryon had a neat mop of silver hair, as did the sweet looking Valaena. Their eyes were either dark blue or purple, but she couldn't quite tell. _They look like the Targaryen's,_ she thought amused.

  
And then the little princess stepped forward. She knew that Shireen Baratheon had sadly contracted greyscale as a child, but the scars weren't half as bad as what some people said they were. They only covered one side of her face. They didn't do her looks any justice, as she was a bit plain and sad, but she was still sweet looking.   
Lyanna bent her knee to the princess, who gladly nodded and ushered her to her feet. She spoke to the girl. "Princess, it is lovely to meet you, I hope my little brother is treating you kindly."  
Shireen giggled and shared a mischievous look with Valaena, who had moved to her side after her introduction to Lyanna was done. "He is, my lady, he wants to play everyday."  
That's a good start, she thought. Rickon and Shireen were only children, so they could hardly be chivalrous with each other when it would be years until they were expected to be wed.

  
She noticed the overly large stable boy Hodor shuffle to the front of the crowd. She then seen a head poke over his shoulder. _Bran_! She realised. Robb eventually ushered Hodor forward so that Lyanna and Bran could reunite. She felt her heart warm as she hugged Bran, even though he was slightly up higher than her due to him being in a wicker basket.

  
Rickon had virtually ran into her arms as she knelt down to reunite with him. He felt as light as a feather as she stood up and spun him around whilst holding him close to her chest. I hope he's eating well, she thought, slightly concerned about how little he weighed, but she brushed that aside. "Have you been looking after your brothers?" She asked him in a falsely serious tone.  
"Yes, Lya." He replied as she placed him back on the ground. She shared a look with Robb.   
"And your betrothed? Shireen looked quite giddy when I asked her about you." Lyanna asked, smirking as Rickon blushed and looked at the ground. He's taken with her.  
"Rickon's blushing!" Bran blurted out, laughing, and soon they were all laughing as Rickon tried to deny he was. _This is how it should be_ , she thought, feeling alive, _all of us, home. If only mother, father, Sansa, Arya and Jon could be here too, and uncle Benjen._.

Theon Greyjoy was by the gates. She grinned and hugged him. He smelt of ale and dried sweat. At times Theon could get on her nerves, but for the most part she thought of him as a brother despite him only being her father's ward. She even had an inkling that he fancied her one time, as she often caught him staring, but all boys were like that with her.  
"Has Princess Myrcella arrived yet, and Prince Tommen? What about lady Margaery?" She asked.  
"We received a raven from Storm's End's castellan nine days ago that the prince and princess just set sail from there, so they won't be with us until two moons I'd say." Theon answered.  
"Margaery accepted the marriage proposal, but we haven't heard any news as to when she'll arrive." Robb answered.

  
It turned out as soon as they were back inside Winterfell's walls, Robb politely excused himself and Lyanna. _I wonder what he'll want to discuss_ , she thought, half dreading what was to come. Robb led them up the stairs. It wasn't until they were inside a room that she realised where he'd taken them. "These are mother and father's chambers." She said, looking around.  
"It is." Robb seemed curt now.  
"Oh go on, spit whatever you have to say out." She said in a tone that was mocking and angry.  
"You were not supposed to reveal yourself at that damned tourney, Lyanna! The smallfolk love a mystery knight, and you swore that you would never take that helmet off, but you did!" He ranted.  
"Aye, I swore," she said, "but we were hundreds of leagues from each other, so I knew that nobody could stop me."  
"And how did you explain that to our father?!" He said, exasperated and flushing red with anger. "I'm surprised the poor man didn't collapse! Did you even stop to think what revealing yourself would have done to him? When The Mountain went to attack you, what would have happened if you weren't paying attention and he lopped you in half?!"  
She paused, a little worried at her twins rising anger. "I would have noticed him regardless, as the people in the crowds started shouting and screaming."

  
Robb clenched his fists. He then started walking towards her. Lyanna instinctively stepped backwards and was suddenly filled with fear. Was Robb about to hurt her? _He's going to beat me,_ she realised, _all because I took my fucking helmet off?_

  
She was pleasantly surprised when he didn't hit her, but instead hugged her. It was tighter than their reunion one, but it felt more protective. He also buried his head into her shoulder. She hugged him back, but still felt confused.  
"I never want to be angry with you." Robb mumbled into her neck.  
"Then don't be." Was all she answered, and she felt him chuckle.  
They stayed like that for another minute or so before he pulled back. "Did you know? Tyrion Lannister tried to kill Bran."  
"What?!" She gasped. The Imp was hardly a nice looking fellow, but he was kind and courteous enough to Lyanna when the royal family visited Winterfell.   
"Winterfell library was set on fire one night, and I went to check. Thank the gods mother decided to stay with Bran - as an assassin was sent with a Valyrian steel dagger that had a dragonbone hilt. Mother fought the man with only her hands and was left with bloody scars, but Summer arrived just in time to kill the assassin. Then, mother went down to King's Landing to find out the truth, and Petyr Baelish told her that the knife belonged to Tyrion Lannister." Robb explained.

  
Lyanna's head started spinning. She'd never noticed the Imp carrying any sort of dagger on him, much less a Valyrian steel one. _Unless he hides his daggers, it seems unlikely._.  
"Where is the Imp now? He went with Jon and uncle Benjen to see the Wall, I recall." She asked, remembering the day she left to go south with her father and sisters.  
"Our mother caught him at the Inn of the Crossroads, and took him to our aunt in the Vale to face a trial. Last I heard, he chose a trial by combat, and some sellsword fought in defence of him." Robb was now grumbling. "He won his trial and walked free."  
Lyanna grudged. "The gods judged him innocent then. So if Lannister didn't try to kill Bran, who did?"  
"I've been trying to think that very question. Bran obviously seen something the day he fell, but he doesn't bloody remember. Whoever pushed him... They wanted him to be silent." Her twin looked deep in thought.

  
"That's enough talk about death for one day," Lyanna tried to change the subject. "How is it, being Lord of Winterfell?"  
Robb smiled, but shook his head. "Tiring. I've had to make new appointments since father's taken half the castle with him. Smallfolk come every day to petition and have matters resolve. I've had to set new rates of taxes and trade. It's all very tedious. I'd be glad if you'd help me out with some of it at least."  
"I'll deal with the smallfolk and petitioners, if you want. I know a thing or two about bookkeeping and accounts as well, so I'll help you in that respect too." She decided. Robb nodded. She half thought about telling him the revelation at Greywater Watch, and Ashara.. But she swore a vow to Howland that she would keep it secret until her dying day, and she would uphold that vow, as she was a Stark.

  
The next morning, she broke her fast with her siblings and the Princess's party before Robb informed her that she would have to oversee his duties as there had been a flood in the Wintertown the previous night which he had to inspect and assess damage. She didn't mind having to do that - she would have maester Luwin with her, and Bran and Rickon would also be there so that they could learn.

  
The petitioners seemed to go on for hours, and Lyanna regretted offering to deal with them. Robb was right, it was tedious work, but she did enjoy it. The people of Wintertown came asking about where they should stay, as the flood had damaged homes and businesses.

Lyanna only had to take one look at the young children looking scared and hungry before making her decision. "I imagine the west wing of the castle will be suitable for their lodgings, maester Luwin?"  
Luwin, and in fact the whole room, looked surprised and amazed that Lyanna had just offered a large wing of the castle to poor townsfolk. "Yes, I think so.."  
"It's settled then." Lyanna stood up and addressed the people of Wintertown, who looked thankful. Some were even crying with happiness.

"You all have free roam of the castle and are allowed anything you may like from the kitchens. Me and my twin brother promise that the flood will be dealt with as quickly as possible, so that your homes can be lived in and your businesses can boom again. If you have any problems or questions at all, don't be afraid to come to me directly. I pray you will all enjoy House Stark's hospitality, and I apologise that we had to meet under such dire circumstances. The north takes care of its own." She announced, projecting her voice in a powerful but kind tone, in the way her father did.

She knew she had done a good job when the room erupted in cheers and claps. Maester Luwin looked proud, and so did Bran. Rickon was applauding but probably had no idea of the impact of her decision and how unusual it was for a highborn to so willingly share her home with commoners.

  
She stepped down from the dais and talked to the residents of Wintertown, who were flooding her on all sides and saying how thankful they were. She noticed that one particularly old woman had dried blood on her forehead, and her hands were almost bruised black.  
"How did this happen?" Lyanna asked her as she inspected the woman's wound.  
"Just as the storm got bad last night, the flood came bursting through mine own door, m'lady. One bolt of lighting struck me house so hard it shook, 'nd one of me old shelves collapsed and hit me when it fell off the wall." The crone explained.  
"Maester Luwin will see to your cut." She then turned and made an announcement. "Anybody with any wounds from last nights storm also has permission to seek help from maester Luwin." She joined eyes with Luwin, who nodded.

  
She asked a guard on the door if there were any more petitioners queuing up outside, and when he said there wasn't anybody else, she concluded the session. She was talking to a few of the children from Wintertown when suddenly the doors burst open.

  
The guards on the door instantly seized whoever it was. It was a woman - or a girl, who looked to only be a few years older than Lyanna. All she looked to be wearing was a long, thin cotton dress. It may have been pearly white once, but it was filthy and was covered in both fresh and old mud. The girl was also wet - probably from the rain, and her hair was long but greasy. Her slippers were cracked and ruined and old. She was also screaming at the guards to let her go, and she was kicking like mad.  
"Put her down!" Lyanna commanded. "If she is a threat, I have a sword."

  
When the guards placed the girl on the ground, Lyanna instinctively placed one hand on the hilt of her sword. The girl did run a few paces before she virtually fell to her knees in the middle of the room and started bawling.  
Maester Luwin was somehow by her side. She turned to him. "Bran and Rickon don't need to see this," she whispered to him. "Have them out of here and send somebody to escort the Wintertown folk to the west wing."

  
Her brothers and her guests were swiftly escorted out of the room. The girl was still crying. She knelt down. "My lady, what is wrong?" She asked gently.  
"I-I'm from the Riverlands, m'lady, b-but your Lord grandfather is bedridden and they wouldn't take petitioners, s-so I didn't know where t'turn but to the daughter of Stark 'nd Tully." The girl started talking, but was still crying and stuttering and also heaving slightly. "B-b-brigands prowl the Riverlands, but that's not why 'm here, m'lady. Me family moved north, t'escape the carnage, so we found employment with Lord Bolton as mill workers." The girl rubbed her face and squeezed her eyes shut.

  
 _Uh oh._ She thought. Either Roose Bolton or his bastard Ramsay were involved in this, whatever it was. _Give me a reason to dish out justice_ , she thought as she waited patiently for the girl to continue. _Poor Domeric might find peace with his killer avenged_.  
"All was well, truly, until his bastard boy - begging your pardons, - came to inspect our work one day. All 'e did was nod 'nd talk to the workers about what they did, and I thought he was just like any o'er Lord that comes to inspect workplaces. He left, but came back after a while and..." The girl was now breaking down.  
"It's alright," Lyanna said reassuringly. "Take your time."

  
After a minute, the girl continued her story, still wailing. "He killed my own papa and nuncle! He killed all the men, but then left the women 'nd girls. He then walked up t' me and called me pretty before.. before dragging me outside, stripping me naked, and..."  
"You don't have to say, I think I know what he did." Lyanna quickly added to spare the girl some trauma.  
 _Ramsay Snow, I will destroy you_ , she thought as her heart broke at the thought of what this poor girl went through.   
"And that's not all. He took me back to his castle - that damned Dreadfort, and every night he took me.. He savaged me, he brutalised me! And there were other girls going through the same thing. The only reason I'm here is because.. he took me to the woods, and told me all I had to do was run, but he'd come looking for me within a day, with his bitches. I don't even though how I escaped him, or how I got here, but he's _hunting_ me, I know it. He's out there, right now, searching..."

  
Lyanna's blood was boiling with anger. She wasn't angry with the girl, but with Ramsay Snow. She'd heard rumours of his somewhat horrific tendencies, but hunting poor girls through the woods as if they were prize stags? That was something only a beast could comprehend doing.  
 _Let him come to Winterfell,_ she thought viciously, _so I can tear him apart and set the direwolves on to him._

  
She didn't care about anything else in that moment - she hugged the girl tightly to her. "I promise, on my honour, that he will never find you here for as long as I'm standing."   
Maester Luwin took the girl away to his solar in order to administrate an ointment for the worst of her bruises. She was now in the room by herself, and so fetched some ink and parchment from the table and began writing.

  
" _Lord Roose Bolton,  
It regrets me to write this, as I know that House Bolton have served House Stark well since the dawn of days, but this must be done. I, Lyanna of House Stark, summon you and your bastard son Ramsay Snow to Winterfell to answer for your said sons crimes against some innocent people who served under you."_

  
Lyanna paused, as she pondered her next words. I must tell Robb first, she thought, we need to confer and make a decision.  
But she drafted up the rest of the letter anyway.

  
" _I denounce Ramsay Snow, and strip him of all inheritance and incomes, and any additional holdings he may have. I also strip him of any other additional titles and ranks, and herby sentence him to death. You must arrive within the month or be branded an enemy to the Stark's and a traitor to the North."_

  
 _Take that, bastard_ , she thought, vengeful, _no more people will suffer your torture. Face me with a sword in hand so I can pummel you in to the ground and show your shame to the world._


	24. Bran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have finally arrived at the point where the War of the Five Kings is about to start. Also, I know in canon the two Frey boys didn't arrive at Winterfell until Bran's first chapter in A Clash of Kings, after Robb negotiates the Stark-Frey alliance whilst he's marching at war, but it doesn't really matter as it doesn't change much here. Enjoy!

  
With Lyanna back, Bran was hopeful that things would gradually go back to normal - that mother would return, with Arya and father and Sansa, and maybe Jon and uncle Benjen would come down and visit from the Wall?

  
But Lyanna and Robb barely had any spare time between them to even play with Bran. Robb was the Lord, but he had so much duties to do that he gave Lyanna some to lessen his workload. Robb also had correspondence from his other lords coming in - Bran seen the ravens carrying messages. And the harvest feast was upcoming - Winterfell had to be made ready, for most of the northern lords were coming to celebrate. Princess Myrcella - Bran's betrothed, and little Prince Tommen were coming too - apparently their ship was sighted taking anchor in Gulltown, which was situated on the west coast of the Vale on the narrow sea.

  
So Bran's days were spent largely with Rickon, Princess Shireen and all her companions. Bran did like them - especially Valaena Velaryon, who grew lovelier by the day. When Valaena and her brother weren't having lessons with their own maester Olyvar, they showed them how to play come-into-my-castle. The Seaworth boys, Stannis and Steffon, didn't really understand the rules at first, but Shireen and Valaena were all patience, and sooner or later even Bran was enjoying himself. They always played in the Godswood, as there was plenty of space there, but soon all their hooting and giggling attracted others to their folly. TomToo, the son of Fat Tom, shyly asked if he could play one day. Matarys Velaryon rudely claimed that only nobles could play it as they held castles, and that TomToo was too lowborn to understand, but Valaena disagreed with her brother and explained the game. Bandy and Shyra, the daughters of the master of horse Joseth, joined in too, although spent most of the game whispering and giggling in the presence of Stannis and Steffon Seaworth respectively. Turnip the cooks boy, Palla the kennel girl and Cayn's boy Calon were all especially invited by the princess too, as she didn't want them to feel left out. Some of the Wintertown children joined in for a time too, as they were now living in Winterfell due to Lyanna's decree. He didn't mind sharing the castle with them - they were in the west wing, and he only ever really saw them at breakfast and supper.

  
The last children to join in were the two Walder's.

He was especially surprised when he one day was told he had to welcome them into Winterfell. They were his mother's own wards, chosen herself, and were to be fostered together in the castle by their own grandfathers wishes. They were Big Walder Frey, who was actually small, and Little Walder Frey, who was actually big. On the day they were received at the gates, it was Rickon who was shouting and balling that he wanted mother and father, not some boys. It had been up to Bran to be courteous and welcoming. The two Frey's didn't seem to mind Rickon's outburst.

  
The Frey boys joined in their games eventually, but one day they introduced them all to their own game they played back at the Twins called 'Lord of the Crossing'. All you really needed to play the game was a small body of water, some sort of makeshift bridge, two players, balance, and the ability to shove and argue. One player acted as the Lord, and when the other player approached, the Lord would say "I am the Lord of the crossing, who goes there?". The approaching player must then present their reasons for crossing the bridge and why they should be allowed to cross. The Lord can ask questions and make them swear oaths, and the other doesn't have to answer truthfully, but the oaths are binding unless the player says 'Mayhaps' quickly enough that the Lord does not notice. Then the player has to try and knock the Lord off the bridge, and only when the Lord is displayed can another player become a Lord, but only if they said mayhaps. The two Freys then demonstrated quite brutally, but Bran thought that it was stupid as Big Walder would always be at a disadvantage due to his height, as Little Walder was bigger and stronger. _He is born to lose Lord of the Crossing as he is born to never become the head of House Frey._

  
Due to Bran's broken legs, he couldn't really play, so most of the time he sat as the judge - to make sure the approaching player said mayhaps or not, but after a while he was forgotten. Valaena and Shireen were noble girls, so they weren't too fond of the idea of getting shoved into water, so they usually sat with him. On one particular day Shireen produced a wrapped napkin filled with pine nuts and sweets, and had a cheeky smile as she said she slyly persuaded her guards that she needed them. So they sat up against the weirwood tree's trunk and ate whilst watching the game. Bran hoped he wasn't blushing the entire time, as Valaena and the princess were on either side of him, and he was getting to know the Velaryon girl well. She told him about Driftmark and all the day cruises her father and uncles took her out for on their flagship, and how Bran would like it there.

  
It was all going well until it came to Rickon's turn.

  
Bran's youngest brother came jogging up to them with Shaggydog beside him, the black direwolf panting. When Rickon stepped on to the plank, the wolf had made to do the same, but Rickon had said "Wolves can't play, Shaggy, you stay with Bran and Shireen and Valaena."  
And he did...  
...until Little Walder had smacked Rickon with a stick across his tummy. Shireen had shrieked first, and so did Valaena, as the big black wolf went bounding on to the plank. Next thing Bran knew, the murky pool water had turned red, both Walder's were screaming bloody murder, Rickon was crying with laughter, and Hodor came from nowhere, pacing whilst shouting "Hodor! Hodor!"

  
Somehow, Rickon _liked_ the Walder's after that outburst. Maester Luwin, after treating Little Walder's bite wound, decided that the shouldn't play Lord of the crossing again. But they played other games though, ones that didn't require hitting or shoving such as rats and cats, monsters and maidens, and they continued playing come-into-my-castle for a time, until Little Walder decided it was boring.

  
Lyanna's direwolf Rhaenyra showed up two days after that.

  
He was in the great hall with Lyanna and Rickon. They were listening to the smallfolk and small castellans and nobles petition... Only, Bran was the one dealing with them and doing the talking instead of Lyanna. She called it a test for him, to see if he'd been listening that day she was holding court. He had done - he was clearly saying the right things, as after every decision he made, Lyanna would give him a smile and a nod, as would Maester Luwin. They'd just finished when Rodrik Cassel came running in panting, and claiming that something was at the gates. The dogs in the kennels were going mental - barking and howling, he could hear them.

  
They quickly made their way out to the yard, where a crowd of people were gathered. Bran was on Hodor's back, and Rickon was slipping under people legs to try and get to the front, as were Big and Little Walder (who were fast becoming friends with Rickon, to Bran's chagrin).  
"Open the damn gates!" Lyanna's voice seemed to boom.  
The gates did open, and people gasped when they seen the smoke grey direwolf. Even Bran was a bit shocked - Rhaenyra was somehow larger than Summer and Shaggydog, and was perhaps bigger than Grey Wind. She looked fiercer too - all it took was a deep snarl for the dogs to shut up and the horses in the stables to start stamping.

  
Then the wolf seen its owner.  
Rhaenyra bounded towards Lyanna and even jumped up and knocked her over. His sister and the wolf then rolled around together on the ground, with Rhaenyra wagging her tail and trying to lick Lyanna's face. " _Gods_ , wolf," Lyanna managed to say as she sat up. "Where have you been?!"  
Rhaenyra obviously didn't answer, but just buried her head into Lyanna's chest, until Lyanna decided to stand up again, brushing herself down.

  
For some reason, Little Walder decided to speak rather loudly. "As if there wasn't plenty direwolves around here as it was."

  
The direwolf seemed to perk up. Rhaenyra's yellow-orange eyes locked on to the Frey boys. Before Bran could blink, the wolf was stalking towards them with bared teeth, and it seemed as though the two Frey's were as still as statues.  
Lyanna looked very concerned. "Rhaenyra, here, stop that!"  
The crowd had started to disperse, but some of them were still watching but keeping their distance. More of them were sent running when Rhaenyra snarled in answer to its owner and rapidly started circling the two boys. Shireen and Valaena were on the other side of the yard, but they were looking scared. "What's Lyanna's direwolf going to do to Walder and Walder?" Shireen asked in a shaky tone.

  
Little Walder then made a stupid mistake - he turned and ran as far and as fast as his legs could carry him. People seemed to shout "No!" and some women even started screaming. Rhaenyra went tearing after Little Walder. In barely five strides the direwolf had leaped and pinned the Frey boy to the ground. Bran didn't like either Walder, but he was scared for them.

  
" _RHAENYRA, GET OFF HIM_!" Lyanna sounded frantic.  
Bran could hear Little Walder panting with terror and trying to shield himself. Rhaenyra's jaws were displaying long, sharp teeth that looked like short swords. Hodor was pacing beneath Bran, waving his arms and shouting "Hodor! Hodor!"

  
Big Walder was screaming again. The boy was shouting at Lyanna to get the direwolf off his cousin. Maester Luwin and Maester Olyvar were trying to lead Shireen, Valaena and Matarys inside, in case it got gory. Stannis and Steffon Seaworth didn't look scared, but their eyes were wide and teary. Their mother emerged, and seemed determined to shield her son's from the terrifying view, and Bran couldn't blame her - if Little Walder moved or shouted any more, Rhaenyra might tear his throat out. _Why does Rhaenyra not like the Frey's?!_ Bran wondered.

  
Lyanna had ran forward and grabbed Rhaenyra by the scruff of the neck. It seemed to go back to normal for a second, - as if everyone thought that the direwolf was now under control, - but they were wrong. Just as Lyanna grabbed the smoke grey direwolf, Little Walder tried to shuffle out from under her on his back, bringing his arms down..  
... which proved to be a grave error. Rhaenyra tore herself from Lyanna's grip and sank her teeth into Little Walder's right arm. First she tore off the fabric of the boys wool doublet, and then tore into his skin. Her jaws were now totally wrapped around Walder's neither skinny nor fat arm. Then Little Walder seemed to become a rag doll - as Rhaenyra shook and shook and shook him. Bran thought he was going to be sick when he heard a _crunch_ , which indicated that she'd broken the bone below the elbow. Now both Walder's were screaming bloody murder. Lyanna was both confused, horrified and scared.

  
In one moment which required all of Lyanna's strength, she hauled her direwolf off the now injured and bleeding Walder. Big Walder instantly ran to his cousin and tried to lift him to his feet, but he stupidly grabbed his injured arm - which seemed to just be dangling below the elbow. _His right arm is now as useless as my legs,_ Bran realised, _now he's a cripple._

  
Well, just about everyone thought that Little Walder would now be partially crippled. But after being in Maester Luwin's care for a few hours, it was announced at supper that Little Walder only had a broken lower arm, and that it would be healed completely within a month or so. Both Frey's seemed to be relieved, as did Bran somehow. At supper, Valaena even approached Little Walder and prayed he would get better soon, before giving him a kiss on the cheek. That only made Bran jealous. It got worse when Shireen and Valaena offered to sew him a sling, so that his lower arm wouldn't have to dangle down all the time, which seemed to make Little Walder and his cousin very grateful and happy.

  
The two Frey's also seemed to forgive Lyanna, oddly. Big Walder seemed to be smart and thoughtful, as he claimed that nobody could ever predict an animals mind, and that he should have kept his mouth shut. Lyanna took responsibility for it anyway - she proclaimed that from now on Rhaenyra would be kept inside her chambers and that if the direwolf wanted out, she would be with her at all times on a leash in case she attacked again.

  
When Robb had heard of the news (he'd been out on the Kingsroad, awaiting a shipment of food for the harvest feast), he'd initially been confused, then angry that their wards had been attacked, and then calm. He seemed satisfied that Rhaenyra was being punished.

  
"Are we going to tell Lord Walder Frey about this incident?" Lyanna asked her twin brother that same night, in the solar. Bran had came along too as he had to verify what happened.       
Robb was thinking, Bran could tell. "People brake bones all of the time, especially children when they're not careful. Maester Luwin said his arm would heal within weeks, did he not?"  
"He did." Lyanna nodded.  
"Old Walder Frey is hardly the type to care if his grandson suffered an injury, but if we tell him that your direwolf attacked him.. He might be furious. He may even call it deliberate, a slight on his House... We can't say it was Rhaenyra." Robb said.  
"We could tell him Little Walder fell of his horse riding at a quintain." Bran offered. It seemed like a good lie - children often took tumbles from horses during riding lessons. As a matter of fact, he'd been watching both Frey's learning to joust just last week when Little Walder's stirrup snapped clean off in a canter, causing the boy to rather comically go out the side door. Rickon and Bran had sniggered at that, until Maester Luwin told them off.

  
"That seems believable. He won't find it suspicious in that sense - plenty of people suffer falls off horses." Robb's word seemed to be final, and they sent the raven off the next morning. Theon had returned with the hunters the next morning, as they were sent to fish the streams in the Wolfswood for salmon, so he hadn't heard about the commotion. When they told him, he spat his wine out and laughed so hard he almost started crying. He only stopped when the two Frey's walked into the hall for breakfast, but he couldn't looked at Big Walder without sniggering.

  
None of them were laughing for long though, as another raven came. From King's Landing. The letter wasn't from Stannis, the King.

  
It was from Joffrey.

  
Everyone was both confused and angry. How on earth could Joffrey send a letter from prison? Who in earth would give him that right?!  
They soon found out. Robb read it aloud.

  
" _To Robb Stark,_  
Your father and my uncles have played a very dangerous game.  
My father's body had barely gone cold before they were scheming. They had me and my mother thrown into dark and dank prison cells. I thought I was nearing death until Lord Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle opened the city gates to my uncle Jaime. The moment I was out I swore I would kill every last man involved in the plot, but I've been advised to be generous first, to show you that I am not Maegor the Cruel.  
So I offer you these terms.  
I hold your father in the black cells on charges of treason. I did also hold your sister, Arya, but somehow she has slipped away. We will find her, to be sure, and she will be harmed with your father unless you choose peace.  
You will bend the knee to me and call me the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. You and my uncles will also withdraw these foul accusations about my mother and uncle. In exchange, I will let your father and sister return north safely, and we do not need to go to war. You will pledge your army to mine and we will defeat first Stannis, and then Renly.  
Lord Varys informed me that your brother Rickon is betrothed to Shireen, my uncle Stannis's daughter. If you pledge fealty to me, that marriage contract will be broken, and instead we will find your brother a different suitor.  
My sister Princess Myrcella and my brother Prince Tommen will also have their betrothals broken. They will instead be returned to King's Landing unharmed. My mother is distraught and concerned over their safety.  
If you refuse me, we will have no choice but to go to war.  
Think very carefully about what you answer.  
Signed,  
King Joffrey of Houses Baratheon and Lannister, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

  
The room was silent as they took it all in.  
"Stannis should have killed the vile boy and his mother when they had the chance." Matarys Velaryon answered.  
"Did Joffrey really write this? What if it's forged?" Robb turned to Maester Luwin.  
"It is Joffrey's hand, but the Queen's words. He's summoning you to King's Landing to openly pledge fealty to him." Luwin answered.  
"Joffrey holds my father in chains, and now he wants his arse kissed?" Robb sounded enraged.  
Luwin tried to simmer Robb. "Stannis no longer hold the capital, so it is a royal command, my Lord. If you should refuse-"  
"-I won't refuse. His Grace summons me to King's Landing, I'll go to King's Landing." Robb cut in, before pausing. "But not alone."  
Everyone was looking at Robb expectantly. Brans eldest brother handed Luwin the letter. "Call the banners." Was all Robb said.  
Theon looked giddy. The Frey's gave each other a look as well. Lyanna stirred.  
"All of them, my Lord?" Luwin asked.  
"They're all sworn to defend my father are they not?" Robb said pointedly.  
"They are." Came from Luwin.  
"Then we will see what their words are worth." Robb seemed determined.  
Maester Luwin left the room. Robb sat back down.

  
"Was there no word of my father, my Lord?" Shireen asked from down the table. She sounded worried. Valaena looked like she was comforting her.  
"No, Princess, there wasn't. But I am on his side. We can only hope Renly is too." Robb was shaking slightly.  
"We'd heard that he left with Loras Tyrell and was crowned at Highgarden." Big Walder blurted out.  
"What?" Robb, Lyanna and Theon simultaneously asked, incredulous. Even Bran wanted to know why.  
"Stannis left him in charge of the realm whilst he went back to Dragonstone, for some reason. When we arrived at Barrowton, the talk was then that he gathered men from the Stormlands and the Reach and crowned himself King, with Ser Loras Tyrell placing the crown on his head. Then he established his own version of the Kingsguard - the Rainbow Guard. Seven knights that wear seven different coloured armour. He made Loras Tyrell the Lord Commander, but we didn't stay in Barrowton long enough to learn any more." Big Walder explained, all in a big rush.  
"Why?!" Robb was stressed. "He swore to be allied with my father and King Stannis. He was basically King during the time Stannis was away!"  
"Renly was also my betrothed, for a time, until I knocked all those knights on their arses. A shame, really - I could be Queen right now." Lyanna japed. Theon laughed, as did some others, but Robb only gave her a dark look.  
"This is no laughing matter, Lya. I'm going to war to bring our father and sister home." Robb said.  
"I'm well aware of that. I would counsel you to be cautious, though. If Joffrey catches wind that there will soon be Northmen marching down the Kingsroad, he will lop father's head off and put it on a spike." Lyanna took a long drink of ale.  
"You think I don't already know that?" Robb sounded sarcastic.  
"Tywin Lannister is also already marching, my Lord. He's the only one that matters as he has the Lannister army." Big Walder added.  
_Big Walder is almost as clever and aware as Matarys,_ Bran thought.  
"I thank you for that wise piece of knowledge, Walder." Robb said. "Once you all are finished eating, you will need to give me the room. It seems I have a war to plan."

  
Bran didn't really like the sound of war breaking out. He said as much to Osha in the stables as she strapped him to Dancer's saddle.  
"Robb's going to bring father and mother and Arya home." He said to her.  
She looked doubtfully up at him. "War, you mean?"  
Bran nodded.  
"It won't end well." Osha said.  
Bran flared. "Robb won't lose, he won't!"  
The wildling woman shushed him. "If he's going south, he'll b'needing that wolf by his side." She motioned to Grey Wind, who was tied to a post across the yard, knawing on a bone.  
"They killed all my father's guards that remained." Bran explained, sadly. "They killed Jory, Desmond, all the rest. Why would anybody want to kill Jory?"  
Osha did look sympathetic. "'M sure they died protecting him, m'lord. They were loyal, t'be sure." She then changed the subject. "Have you had any more dreams?"  
He had. "It was weird. Septon Chayle was drowned in a well."  
"Best not tell 'im that, m'lord. He'll likely fast himself to death." Osha said.

  
He went to bed that night, and had a horrible dream where he was attending a wedding - only, in this dream, Big Walder was marrying Valaena. He couldn't do anything as he watched them kiss, and somehow Princess Myrcella was beside Bran and called herself the Lady of Winterfell and wanted to dance with Bran, who she called 'husband'.  
He woke up, hoping that _that_ certain dream wouldn't become real.


	25. Theon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We haven't had a POV from our dear Theon since chapter 2, so I decided to be nice and revisit him :) also, don't worry, I plan on writing a Ned and Arya chapter soon, to see their imprisonmemt from their point of view and to see just how wroth Joffrey and Cersei are

He was bored out his mind as he accompanied Robb around the Wintertown, assessing the damage of the flood from the previous night. The flood had evacuated most of the residents, but every now and then a head would poke out of a top floor window and shout for help. _Bloody idiots,_ Theon thought. _They actually thought they'd be safe from the Storm Gods wrath?_

  
They were currently surveying the damage from the centre of the old main street - only they were in a paddle boat as the flood water had reached a good metre high. You couldn't even see the drains - but then again, you couldn't really see anything as the water was that murky and brown. All sorts of things were floating in the water too - he didn't even want to think about the possibilities of what they were.

  
Robb was quietly sat next to him, looking a bit pale. He looked very much a Lord today, dressed in all black and leather, with furs draped over his shoulders. His Tully blue eyes looked sad somehow - probably for the six victims that were confirmed to have died in last nights storm. A few of them had been children, and even Theon had felt sad when he seen their lifeless bodies floating downwards just as they had arrived to start their inspection. The other victims had been adults, but one of them was somebody Theon actually knew, for she was a whore at the Inn he frequented with Lyanna and Robb, and Jon Snow before he left for the Night's Watch. He'd tumbled her countless times. He would miss her, in a way - her tits were like pillows and her cunt was always wet.

  
They all decided they had seen enough damage for one day, and so got out the paddle boat before getting behind Winterfell's safe and unflooded refuge. Also with them was Hallis Mollen, who Robb had made captain of guard, and their chief builder, who's name Theon could never remember.  
"The damage looked severe, my Lord." The chief builder commented.   
"Aye, it was. How on earth do we even get rid of all the water?" Robb spoke.  
"Drains clearly won't work, as they're flooded themselves." Hal pointed out.   
"We could build a network of trenches, my Lord," the builder suggested. "We could build them out of Wintertown and then to an area where we could build a dam. In fact, I think I know of a clearing just before the wolfswood's entrance where we could build it."  
Robb looked interested, and nodded, clearly supporting the idea. "That does sound possible."  
"But what would we do with the water once we dam it?" Theon asked. "It's dirty and contaminated, it cannot be drunk."  
He heard a 'hmmm' come from Hal. Everyone looked deep in thought.  
"We can meet at a later date to discuss that, once the trenches are complete and the water is disposed of." Robb decided, and that seemed to be that.

  
When they had gotten inside the castle they were immediately hollered at by Lyanna, who walked briskly towards them. Theon thought she looked lovely - she was dressed in a light grey gown that showed off the top of her chest slightly, and her shoulders. She also had her hair down, although it seemed slightly wavy from a braid.  
"The Wintertown victims are now being housed in the west wing." Lyanna announced. Theon was surprised, as was Robb and Hal and the builder.  
"A kind decision, Lya, but for how long?" Robb asked.  
"Until the flood water is all disposed of and the buildings restored." She proclaimed.  
 _Always a people person, our Lyanna_ , Theon thought, affectionately.  
"That could take months." Robb replied.  
"And? We have enough food and supplies to house them. We can't exactly throw them out and send them on their way!" Lyanna argued.  
"They should stay, it will be a kindness." Robb decided. "Those that are able bodied should also earn their keep by helping out around the castle."   
"Aye, I thought as much too, but give it a few days." Lyanna said. "There's also something else.."  
"We'll take our leave." Hal and the builder left.  
"Just after I finished the audience, a girl came running in. The guards could barely hold her back. When they let her go, she came running forward but then collapsed in a heap on the floor. She's a girl from the Riverlands, but her family moved north to escape the brigands. They found work at a mill on Roose Bolton's lands." Lyanna paused as some servants went past. It was a wise thing to do - servants were well known for gossiping, especially when nobility were mentioned. "One day, Roose's bastard son was sent to visit and inspect the mill. All was fine at first, he apparently just asked questions about their work and took his leave, but he came back later... He killed the men, and left all the girls.. Oh Robb, it was horrible what he did.. Anyway, he told this girl she was pretty before taking her outside and raping her."  
Lyanna seemed to pause. Robb looked tense. "Carry on," he said.  
"After that, he carted her back to the Dreadfort and had her locked in his chamber throughout the day, but would always rape her at night. There were other girls going through the same, she told me. It appears the rumours are also true - about Ramsay Snow's tendencies. He took her to the woods, told her to run, and that he'd be back to hunt her with his dogs. She's one of the very few to have gotten away, for she found herself here."  
Theon glanced at Robb. "The poor lass.. Where is she now?"  
"Maester Luwin is tending to the worst of her bruises and cuts. She was very distressed. In fact, I intend on giving her justice." Lyanna answered. Theon thought she sounded haughty at the end.  
"How?" Theon had to ask.  
She pulled a rolled up parchment out of her side pocket. "I drafted this up earlier. I thought it best to show it to you before its carried out."

  
 _What is she planning?!_ Theon wondered. Robb read the letter. It was silent for a minute.  
"You intend on killing one of House Stark's most powerful northern ally?" Robb sounded incredulous.  
"Roose Bolton didn't do the raping. His _son_ did though." Lyanna seemed adamant.  
"Do you think he's going to be fine with his only son being sentenced to death?!" Robb argued back. "Bolton's men make up a substantial amount of our army. If we make him wroth, we lose a good few thousand men."  
"Oh ho, do you plan on marching to war anytime soon, brother?" Lyanna seemed to spit back. "The bastard needs punished for this, and I intend to avenge Domeric too."  
"You're acting as though you were wed to Domeric." Robb said tersely.  
"He was my betrothed though, and the best of the suitors father bestowed on me, until Ramsay poisoned him." Lyanna said, hands on her hips, defiant. _That was said a bit too loudly,_ Theon thought. It was one of the norths worst kept secrets that Ramsay Snow had killed his half-brother via poison.

  
"There are other ways to punish people that don't involve death, you know." Robb countered. "The boy will never inherit anything anyway, being a bastard, so that line where you said you strip him of all ranks and holdings is invalid anyway."  
"Well you write the bloody letter then," Lyanna had had enough, it seemed. "Whatever you intend, have Ramsay come to Winterfell, so I can hunt him through the woods with Rhaenyra."  
"Assuming Rhaenyra ever turns up here again," Robb muttered.

  
Rhaenyra did turn up, whilst Theon had been away fishing the wolfswood for salmon. He'd also missed the seemingly terrifying event the same day where Lyanna's smoke grey direwolf had tore into Little Walder Frey, one of Lady Catelyn's wards, and ended up breaking part of the boys arm. He'd laughed so hard he nearly pissed himself when they told him, and at breakfast it took every fibre of his being to not burst out laughing when he looked at the boy.

  
He was no longer laughing when the letter from Joffrey was read out, though.

  
Lord Stark and Arya had been captured in Duskendale, and were being transported back to King's Landing. _Probably to be thrown in the black cells_ , Theon thought. He was very worried for them, but tried not to show it. He'd been Lord Stark's ward for almost ten years now - he was almost like a son. Eddard Stark had been generous and warm with Theon, but there was always the shadow of the greatsword Ice between them - which would lop Theon's head off if Balon Greyjoy ever decided to crown himself King of the Iron Islands again. As he grew older, he realised that _ward_ was just a kinder way of saying _prisoner_. _I must be grateful,_ Theon thought, _rarely do prisoners get granted the freedoms I have, and Lord Stark taught me more values than my father ever did._ The Stark children were also far better siblings than Rodrik and Maron and Asha ever were. Although only Robb and Lyanna were close to him, as the others were only polite at best, he felt as though he was Theon Stark and not Theon Greyjoy.

When Robb announced that it would be war in order to get his father and sister back, Theon for some reason had a bad feeling in his stomach. He tried to ease it. _Surely I'll be going with him,_ he thought, _I'll march to war and be by his side in battles, sit on his war counsels, and we'll all win some glory and rewards!_  
As the princess, her companions, Lyanna, Bran and Rickon left the room, Theon stayed with Robb. He could see he was shaking.  
"Are you afraid?" Theon dared to ask.  
Robb lifted his shaky hands from off the table. "I must be."  
"Good." Was all Theon said, observing Robb.  
"How is that good?" Robb's eyebrows were furrowed.  
"It means you're not stupid." Theon remarked.  
Maester Luwin rejoined them, bringing with him a pile of parchment paper, an inkpot and a long rolled up bit of paper, which Theon learned was a map. The man unrolled it and used some bookends to hold the four corners down so it wouldn't spring up.

  
"I've had Maester Olyvar write up the letters for your bannermen, telling them to gather their strength, my Lord." Luwin announced.  
Robb nodded his head. "That was a good idea, for we need your wisdom."  
Luwin seemed to smile. "Shall we begin?"

  
Theon sat his hands on the table as he looked at the map of Westeros. _We're allied with everyone except the westerlands and parts of the Crownlands_ , he thought. _We will win easily, surely._

He then remembered that the Iron Islands existed. _If we persuade my father.. We could tempt him with Casterly Rock and Lannisport, and then the Ironborn will have more land than they could ever need._

  
"Assuming all the northern houses sworn to House Stark will join us, our army numbers twenty thousand men." Maester Luwin explained. "Your mother is of the Riverlands, and I am quite sure the riverlords will join us, - for your uncle Edmure is your father's brother by-law."  
"And my aunt, Lysa?" Robb seemed hopeful.  
"Your aunt does seem to have cause to hate the Lannister's, after they killed Lord Jon. But it is said she is mad with grief, and doesn't even allow the Knights of the Vale to enter tourneys anymore - especially after the death of Ser Hugh at the Hand's Tourney. I will write to her if you wish, and ask if she will add her forty-five thousand men to ours." Luwin said.  
Robb nodded. "We look a winning side already."  
"If your lady betrothed gets here quicker, you'll also have a good few thousand more." Theon added.   
"Not just a few thousand - a good eighty thousand or thereabouts." Luwin added.  
" _Eighty thousand?_!" Robb seemed giddy. "I hope she's prepared to be wed as soon as she arrives."  
"Mace Tyrell pledged his men to you the moment he agreed to marry his Margaery to you, my Lord." Maester Luwin said. "They will join us, despite Renly calling himself King at Highgarden."  
"Good good," Robb was smiling now. "And the Dornish?"  
"Sunspear's maester wrote us a week past to say that Sansa and her ladies are settling in well, and that Prince Quentyn is especially taken with her." Luwin announced. Robb seemed relieved that his sister was being treated well.

  
"That reminds me - am I not pledged to marry Princess Arianne?" Theon remembered. He had no idea how he'd forgotten.  
"You are," Luwin looked at him. "But if you intend to march with Robb to war, the wedding will have to wait a while."  
 _Oh_ , Theon thought, a bit deflated. _Surely if they need the Dornish support, they'd want me  - from a family of seafarers - to ferry them up?_ Theon had often thought about the odd possibility that he'd spend his life in the warm climate of Dorne. He wasn't made for warm weather - he was Ironborn. Some nights he even dreamed about being married to this Dornish princess - in some of the dreams he'd be on a ship with her, going on cruises along the Dornish coast and kissing her under the sun. Others would involve their wedding (and their wedding night), whilst once he even dreamed about her birthing him children. He even dreamed about taking her to visit Pyke and the isles - where he'd introduce her to his father and mother. His father would look either horrified or angry, whilst his mother would call her daughter and kiss Theon's head repeatedly. It was weird he dreamed all of this despite not even knowing what Arianne Martell looked like.

  
"Whilst I'm away at war, who will have Winterfell?" Robb asked, bringing Theon out of his thoughts.  
"Lyanna will want to go with you and prove she can fight, no doubt. But I think it best that she rule the north in your absence. She was rather good at dealing with petitions and people the other day." Luwin replied, full of praise for Robb's twin.  
Robb nodded. "It is also my wish that we should find her a husband, despite her protests."  
Theon smirked. _Oh she won't like that one bit._  
"Cley Cerwyn is unwed, my lord, and he's only a half day ride from Winterfell." Luwin seemed to support the idea.  
"She knows him too, and gets on with him. But I was thinking of a husband.. Further afield than the north." Robb answered. Theon looked at him, wondering what he was meaning.  
"She's already been betrothed to Renly, and that was broken." Theon added.  
"There is Loras Tyrell." Robb seemed to be looking at the Reach on the map.  
"She unhorsed him at the tourney," Theon put in.  
"That may not be possible, my Lord." Luwin gave counsel. "Loras Tyrell will already be your brother by-law when you wed Margaery."  
"Is there not another brother? Gerold or something?" Robb was trying to think.  
"Garlan. Mace's second oldest son. But there's one problem - he's already married to Leonette Fossoway." Luwin corrected.  
"I thought there was a crippled one?" Theon spoke up.  
"Willas. He's the heir to Highgarden. Prince Oberyn unhorsed him in a tourney, but the horse ended up crushing Willas's legs. He's still got his wits, though." Luwin told the tale.

  
Robb seemed to think it was an insult that his sister be wed to a cripple, as he placed his index finger on the Stormlands. "We are already allied with Stannis and Renly, and Bran and Arya are to marry Myrcella and Tommen respectively, but what about a stormlord?   
"I will check my records later to see if there's a boy lord ages with you from any of the families in the Stormlands, and mayhaps I should do the same for the Vale and Crownlands too?" Luwin suggested.  
Robb nodded. "Aye, do that, and bring me a list of possible suitors tomorrow. We have more important things to discuss."

  
The war counsel seemed to go on forever, for Theon anyway. It was midday before Robb dismissed them. Theon went off in search of Lyanna to tell her the details.

He found her sparring with Ser Rodrik in the yard. He couldn't help but be frozen to his spot as he watched her. He'd never seen a woman fight so gracefully, flamboyantly and dangerously in his life. Her stamina was good too, as Ser Rodrik was red in the face and slightly sweating (which suggested they'd be sparring for a good while), whilst she was barely making a sound. There was a moment when Ser Rodrik managed to disarm her, leaving her with no weapon in her hands. Ser Rodrik took a swipe at her, but she ducked and swerved. It was then Theon noticed that she was armed with a dagger which was sheathed on her hip, as she unsheathed it with her right hand. Ser Rodrik then grabbed her right wrist with his hand, but what impressed Theon the most was that she managed to flip the dagger in to her left hand and then hold it just inches away from his throat, showing that if it was a real fight, he'd be dead.

Ser Rodrik Cassel smiled at her proudly, in fact he almost beamed. There were many castle servants that had stopped to watch, and it was as though they were blown away. Lyanna had never publicly been allowed to train with weapons, as Robb and Theon and Jon Snow had, but the girl had clearly been training herself. _Just where would she go to train though, to avoid her mother and father's scorn?_ He wondered.

  
Lyanna sheathed the dagger and turned around to retrieve her blunted sword from the ground. As she done this, she sighted Theon. "What all was discussed?"  
"Not much, just the size of our army and that of our allies' forces." He paused, smirking, "Robb wants you to be wed."  
She narrowed her eyes and sighed. "That cunt."  
He laughed. "Cley Cerwyn is always a possibility. He's our friend. And I've frequented the Wintertown whores with him too, he won't displease you in the marriage bed I can promise you that."  
She playfully shoved him. "The boys barely fourteen and you've dragged him to brothels?"   
"On his first visit he wasn't as keen, but after that he was practically begging me to come with him to them. There's this ginger lass who's his favourite and her tits are massi-"  
"-I don't need to hear about whores, Theon." She held her hands up. He laughed again.  
"Why were you training?" He couldn't help but ask.  
"Well, we're going to war, aren't we?" She seemed to think that she would be going.  
"It was decided that you should stay here and rule the north, Lyanna." He had to break it to her.  
Her face was a picture. "What?! Surely not.. I have to be with my twin!"   
"It wasn't me that made the decision, it was Maester Luwin and Robb." He held his hands up in defence.   
"It feels like I've only just got back, and reunited with you all.. but now you and Robb will be going away, and who knows if you'll make it back alive?" She seemed somber now.  
He patted her shoulder. He couldn't help but be enamoured with those brilliant green eyes - they were like emeralds. "You'll still have Bran and Rickon, they won't be going anywhere. And you'll be kept busy with princess Shireen and all her friends, and Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen will be arriving."   
"Aye, and I'm assuming I'll have to finish off planning and preparing for the harvest feast." She grimaced, but was still smiling.  
"I'm sure Maester Luwin will help you with that." He almost moved his hand to stroke a lock of her dark hair, but he stopped himself.

  
It was a good thing that Robb appeared at that moment, as Theon wouldn't have been able to stop himself from staring at Lyanna. _She's beautiful_ , he thought, _oh so beautiful. Whoever marries her will never know how lucky they are._  
"A raven, from Oldtown." Robb called out to them enthusiastically as he trotted down the steps to the hard two at a time. "It arrived in the solar this morning, but Maester Olyvar didn't want to interrupt our meeting with it."  
"Whys it come from Oldtown?" Lyanna asked. "Who do we know from Oldtown?"  
"It's from the Hightower's," he smiled. "Baelor Hightower, specifically."  
"Why is he writing us, is he wanting to wed Lyanna?" Theon said, winking at Lyanna. She shoved him playfully.  
"No, but it's good news nonetheless." Robb seemed to beam. "My lady betrothed is on her way."


	26. Shireen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going away for a few days, but I plan to publish both a Cersei and Ned chapter at the same time as soon as I am back. Major shoutout to those who have actually read up to this far haha.

  
The last of the northern houses to arrive with their army - the Karstark's - arrived a month after Lord Robb had called his banners.

  
Valaena had been pounding at her door, and was wanting Shireen to come with her on to the battlements to watch them ride in. Shireen Baratheon had dutifully been taught all the banners and sigils and words, and soon enough the names of the lords (and in the Mormont's cases, the ladies) and their sons. Some lords even had grandsons come with them - most of them couldn't have been much older than Devan Seaworth. _Devan_ , she thought, reminiscent. Devan was her father's squire, and surely he'd be going to war too, to fight the Lannister's and the boy who she thought was her cousin. She was well aware that he could possibly die - Allard, Maric, Matthos and Dale all could too, even her father and her friend Ser Davos. _Please, you seven gods,_ she thought, _keep them all safe. Even mother and lady Mellisandre. Oh, and grant my cousins Myrcella and Tommen a safe voyage._

  
Shireen had dressed into a simple grey gown lined with white sheepskin at the collar as she prepared to do her duty in standing alongside the Stark's as Robb welcomed his bannermen. Valaena and Matarys had came too, but stood slightly behind her. They received the Karstark's in the great hall, as it had started raining heavily outside - it would be improper for them to have their bent knees and boots covered in the watery mud. The captain of guard escorted Lord Rickard Karstark in with his three sons Harrion, Eddard and Torrhen.  
By tradition, Robb stepped forward and welcomed them by grasping each of their hands. After they bent their knees and swore they would follow Robb to bring Lord Eddard home, he gave them his hand to help them to their feet before clapping them on their shoulders. The Karstark's looked grateful.

  
Rickard's sons seemed to make beelines for lady Lyanna, and it was as if they were shoving each other like children - each one determined to get to her before the other two. In the end it was Harrion, the oldest and tallest, who kissed Lyanna's cheeks and knelt down to kiss her knuckles. He was talking to her with somewhat wide eyes, but Shireen couldn't hear what he was saying as Lord Rickard was explaining how they were slightly delayed due to bad weather. Torrhen and Eddard had greeted Lyanna in the same way their brother did, but they said things which caused the eldest stark daughter to grin and blush.

  
Robb then led Lord Rickard over to Shireen. "My Lord, this is Shireen Baratheon, only child of Stannis and Selyse Baratheon, betrothed to my brother Rickon, and the rightful heir apparent to the Iron Throne."  
Rickard Karstark looked slightly bewildered as he set his eyes on her. _He's looking at my face,_ she thought, trying not to let it affect her as she smiled. _He looks disgusted._  
"Princess," the man went to one knee. "Not only will I march to free Lord Eddard, but I will march to see your father seated upon his stolen throne."  
She knew that he was partly only saying that to be courteous, as she recognised a small hint of reluctance in his voice, but she ushered him to stand nonetheless. "I thank you, my Lord. When we win, I will make sure my father rewards you for your service."

  
He nodded and smiled, though it was brief and didn't meet his eyes. Harrion, Eddard and Torrhen were far more courteous, and even bantered with her. They seemed taken aback by her greyscale scars at first, but they probably pretended not to notice it. In a way, the Karstark siblings reminded her of the older Seaworth brothers, even though Harrion wasn't even old enough to be ages with Matthos.

Introductions done, Robb began to show them to their assigned chambers. _My work here is done,_ she thought. She had the whole day to herself.  
Her and Valaena walked arm in arm through Winterfell to reach the godswood, where she knew their friends would be. Matarys proclaimed that he was bored of playing games, and so elected to go back to his chambers and read. Due to the Wintertown being flooded a metre high, all of Robb's bannermen were either camped outside Winterfell or staying within the castle. It was always very crowded during the day. The lowered drawbridge and raised portcullis' didn't help reduce congestion either - people were allowed to come and go as they pleased.

  
They passed a good few of Robb's men as they walked to the godswood. They passed Hornwood men on the stairs, their armour enamoured with the bull moose sigil of the house. They nodded and smiled at them, calling Shireen a Princess in low voices.

  
They reached the godswood without too much more hassle. When they finally came upon the weirwood grove, they found their friends. Rickon, her betrothed, was looking in slightly better spirits than he had been the last few weeks. He'd been upset that Robb was leaving and had wrecked havoc in his chamber.

  
They hadn't noticed their arrival yet. "In a few years me and Shireen will marry, and I'll be more highborn than any of you lot." Rickon Stark was proclaiming as he sat atop one of the weirwoods low hanging branches, whilst everyone else was on the forest floor. "I'll be the King, and you'll all have to bow to me and call me Your Grace. Even Robb and Lya and Bran and mother and father! You'll all be my people."  
_You won't be the King_ , Shireen couldn't help but correct him mentally, _you'll be my King consort, but I'll have the real power as you'll only marry in to my house. Rickon is not of Royal birth._

  
"What are you all on about?" Valaena announced their arrival. They all turned around, as if surprised. Bran, who was previously sat slumped up against the tree looking gloomy, lit up at the sight of Valaena Velaryon. Shireen almost smirked. Bran Stark had tried quite hard to hide his fancy for Valaena, but she always caught him stealing glances.  
"Shireen! Valaena!" Rickon almost shouted in welcome as he slid off the giant branch to run to them.  
"We were talking about our Houses." Big Walder Frey filled them in.  
"I was telling them that we will be King and Queen one day and how we'll make them bow down to us." Rickon was by her side in an instant.  
"That won't be for a while, my father and mother are still alive." Shireen said, smiling.  
"Can't say the same for Lord Stark." Little Walder said, but then it grew deadly silent. Big Walder looked horrified.  
"Cousin! That wasn't nice!" Big Walder hit him on the shoulder.  
Shireen looked worriedly at her betrothed, who was well aware of his father's imprisonmemt and was like a cache of wildfire on the topic. If Rickon got angry, he might even harm Little Walder.

All Rickon did for a few seconds was stare at the Frey boy, but he looked ready to explode. It was a good thing that Bran was paralysed below the waist, as the looks he was giving Little Walder would curdle milk. She knew that her future brother would have harmed the Frey if he was able to.  
"Why should I apologise? It's the truth." Little Walder seemed fearless. "He's committed treason, he plotted against Joffrey Baratheon."  
"Joffrey _Lannister_ more like," Valaena snapped. Shireen was a bit surprised - her friend was rarely angry. "In fact, he should be Joffrey Waters, as he's a bastard born out of wedlock."  
"By all the gods he is a Baratheon." Little Walder was really stirring the pot, and was on thin ice. Even Shireen was getting angry - very rare indeed, but the boy was implying that her father and her uncle were traitors.  
"You shut up!" Bran barked, a few feet away from them.  
"What did you say?" Little Walder stalked menacingly towards Bran. Even with his arm in a sling, Little Walder must've thought himself invincible and protected from harm, like Symeon Star-Eyes or Aemon the Dragonknight.  
"Cousin, lay off and apologise!" Big Walder was grabbing his cousin by his good arm. "The direwolves will attack you again."

  
_Ah ha, that will scare him, surely._ Shireen hoped this situation would end in peace with nobody harmed. They all got along at the best of times, but sometimes Little Walder always ruined it temporarily. He was always saying how he didn't want the non-noble children playing with them, and even scorned them one time. Shireen much preferred Big Walder, and wished at the best of times that he'd been the only one that Lady Catelyn had agreed to ward.  
"Don't you dare say that my father is a traitor! He's not going to die either, so take that back!" Bran half-shouted. She could hear Hodor somewhere, probably being drawn to the commotion.  
"What's going on here?" Came a voice from behind them. They all turned.

  
They seen it was Maester Luwin and Rodrik Cassel, the acting castellan. With them were some young squires - the eldest being at least eighteen and the youngest ten, - who were looking puffed out.  
Maester Luwin stepped forward. "What is the hassle?" He asked, in a slightly angry tone. "Those squires came to pray in the godswood but heard all the racket you were making and came running to us."  
"Little Walder said my father is a traitor who is going to die soon." Bran said, before either of the Frey's could give their testimonies.  
The maester rounded on the Frey responsible, "Is this how you behave back at the Twins?! Apologise at once, Walder Frey, else I inform your grandfather of this folly."  
"I behave how I want at my family's castle, thank you very much, and Lord Walder won't care anyway, neither will my father." Little Walder exclaimed, and Shireen couldn't help but feel disgusted by how he was speaking to Luwin, - as he was speaking in a tone which implied " _you're merely a chained maester, who are you to force me, a Frey of the Twins, to apologise?"_ If Walder ever spoke to Cressen that way, Shireen would have kicked off.

  
"I apologise on mine and my cousins behalf to Lord Bran." Big Walder said, always the more reasonable of the two. "My cousin should learn to think before he speaks. "  
Little Walder rolled his eyes at his cousins words, which made Shireen glare at him. _He's insufferable,_ she thought.

  
That afternoon, Shireen and Valaena were sat overlooking the courtyard watching the young squires, soldiers and knights prepare for war. A quintain had been set up, and so had archery butts. Some were event jousting with light lances under the watchful eyes of Ser Rodrik (or the masters-of-arms who had arrived with their bannermen). A young lad with the Flint sigil was somehow easily beating an older and taller boy with the Locke sigil on his armour whilst training with morningstars. Young Benfred Tallhart was telling tales of his experience so far of being a knight to a gathered crowd of young lads who guffawed every minute at his words. Cley Cerwyn seemed to honour his sigil, as he trained with a blunted battleaxe he found in the armoury for a short while (despite the fact he wasn't marching with his Lord father at all - he was to stay home and keep order at Castle Cerwyn). 

Robb had even appeared after a while, looking a bit stressed. With him were Daryn Hornwood, Theon Greyjoy, the three Karstark's, Robin Flint and surprisingly the woman, Dacey Mormont. Shireen had overheard a servant at breakfast saying that Robb had held a final war counsel to confirm plans and tactics for when they engaged in fighting. She wondered how he still looked so jovial, as it had lasted a good few hours. It was as if the whole yard had forgot they were meant to be training, as they all surrounded their liege, a good few deep, to just hear him speak to them.

"He's very in touch with his people," Valaena said admirably as Robb took the time to spar and train with the young soldiers with a blunted sword. Half the lads in the yard were sons of farmers, fishermen, foresters, - hells, probably rapists and plain commoners, - the list could go on, and yet Robb Stark was treating them equal, as though they were noble. He was even giving them advice and techniques he'd been shown, to gathered crowds of boys. _And to think, half of them will probably die in their first battle.._ She didn't like to think that, but it was probably true.

  
Matarys eventually joined them, rubbing his eyes. "Everywhere in Winterfell, there's noise. Not even Driftmark got this noisy."  
"That's because Driftmark has barely called its banners for as long as we've been alive." Valaena countered, braiding the ends of her hair.  
"Was it busy when my father told your father to sail with all his strength to Dragonstone?" Shireen enquired.  
"I guess so. Driftmark is only a small island though, we don't have as much men. Monty is only six, so he hated the noise and strangers." Valaena explained. Monty was the name Valaena affectionately called her and Matarys's younger brother, Monterys.  
"How come he didn't come with you's?" Shireen asked.  
"Father insisted he was too young for the voyage, and he hates ships anyway - he's always seasick and crying, as he claims he once dreamed he was on a ship whilst a kraken pulled it under the sea." Matarys said, chuckling at the end.  
_An odd dream_ , Shireen thought, _and scary_.

  
Three days later, Robb marched from Winterfell with most of his strength. Shireen had hugged him goodbye, and promised she would keep Rickon in check. Robb had also proclaimed that when he returned, he would have Margaery Tyrell with him, a new sister and friend for Shireen and the others. He seemed so happy about his betrothal, she really hoped it worked out for him. She'd not heard of anyone talking about word from Highgarden, so she wondered just where Margaery was to meet with Robb. _Maybe they'll meet halfway at Riverrun, or at the God's Eye or the Vale?_

  
She had watched him go out the gates, riding at the head of the army, looking very much a Lord and not a boy. Theon Greyjoy was riding not far behind him, along with the other lords. Lyanna had spent about half an hour saying goodbye to her twin, and they must've hugged a good handful of times. Shireen could see her future sister by-law wiping her eyes with a handkerchief as the last few men marched out the gates. From Shireen's advantage, she could see more soldiers, especially the ones camped outside the castle, attaching themselves to the column. The baggage train was greatly protected - half a dozen foot soldiers and spears along with a few mounted cavalry were surrounding it. It seemed silly, as no enemy lied north of the Neck, but it was always better to be safe. Anyone could steal cheese or salted hams from a wagon. Her father had once administered punishment for a landed knight who had stole a batch of oatcakes from a baggage train caravan - the offending hand which had picked up the oatcakes was hacked off. Stannis Baratheon claimed it was a lesson the knight would learn from - but only half a year later, his other squire Bryce Farring had found the same man sneaking into the kitchens on Dragonstone and stealing a ham - the knight was hanged as a result, she knew.

  
Even though Shireen didn't really like the crowdedness of the castle, now that tonnes of the people had left, she wanted them back. It was almost ominously quiet - not even the pigs in their pens were grunting much noise.  
Soon the kingdoms will be in disorder and chaos, she knew. The Riverlands were already being burned and pillaged by Lannister men, and it made Shireen sad to learn that smallfolk were being caught in the crossfire as a result. _If I were Queen right now, I'd offer them safe protection and hospitality..._  
But she wasn't Queen.


	27. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a Cersei POV - the first one since her imprisonmemt. Sometime tomorrow I will also publish a Ned chapter to see how our poor unfortunate Lord is doing in the black cells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that a few of you are probably wondering "why is Barristan still lurking about? Didn't he get dismissed pretty early after Robert's death?" He will be getting dismissed pretty soon, in fact I'm already planning Cersei's next chapter to feature his dismissal as she was there when it happened.

  
She entered the counsel chamber and was welcomed with the sound of her son barking commands.  
"I don't care about the stupid negotiations! Kill the girl if you have to, I don't care, just find her!!" Joffrey was snapping at one of the Gold Cloaks - who had all been tasked with finding Arya Stark, as she had somehow escaped them. It was verified that she had definitely been safe and secure on the road back from Duskendale, but when they had arrived in the city to throw her into the dark cells, they had discovered her missing - which had ever since been a thorn in Cersei's side.   
"Joffrey! That is not how to speak to the Gold Cloaks, they are only trying their best." She scolded her son. She so desperately tried to make him a likeable King, but being imprisoned in Maegor's Holdfast had changed the boy.. And she didn't like this change. He was more difficult to heel than ever before. _Aerys Targaryen was kidnapped and held hostage in a dark prison for half a year, and that made him more paranoid and mad than ever before..._

  
"They clearly aren't trying hard enough, for she hasn't been found still!" He grumbled, before waving the man off. Cersei realised it was Allar Deem, one of Slynt's cronies.  
She noticed that Slynt himself was sat at the counsel table. He was allowed to, being Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks. She rather disliked the man, but he was loyal. Hells, the man didn't even seem offended that Joff had just insulted the order he was in charge of.  
"He has two additional daughters and an abundance of sons, but there's only one of him. He's the one that matters, and we have him." She tried to tell him. She grasped his hand gently as she sat down beside him, but he yanked his hand away.   
"It's not like Lord Varys to be late." She remarked. "Where is he?"  
"Who cares? Can we not start without him?" Joffrey sounded gurney and bored.  
She sighed, irritably. "Lord Varys is the only one here who has the resources to tell us just what Stannis and Renly are planning."

  
Joffrey was about to snap at her, no doubt, when she noticed the heads turned towards the door. As if on cue, it was Lord Varys. "Apologies, Your Grace," he said, taking a seat next to Pycelle, "I have learned the most intriguing piece of gossip for quite a while."  
"Do tell, Lord Varys." She waited patiently for him to spill what he learned. As the plump bald man sat down, a waft of some perfume filled Cersei's nose.   
"It is from Qarth," he started. "I know, I know, Qarth is half a world away, but it concerns us nonetheless. The gossip is that Daenerys Targaryen turned up at the city with a small _khalasar_ , tired, hungry, and dirty from the Red Waste. The Thirteen welcomed them in and are hosting them, until they regain strength. But there are some who say that Daenerys Targaryen has with her three newly hatched dragons."  
Janos Slynt and Joffrey sniggered. "Dragons?" Baelish had a smug smile.  
"Dragons haven't hatched since the end of the Dance," Cersei voiced, hoping she recalled her histories. "It's hardly likely that they'd be reborn again."  
"They're probably twisted and stunted things," Slynt said. "And hopefully ill - they'll probably die in a moons turn."  
"I'd say they aren't even real," Joffrey commented. "Sailors gossip at best. Or maybe the Qartheen are just blind - maybe they seen the girl with the Targaryen sigil and mistook the three-headed dragon for real ones."  
Janos Slynt seemed to bellow laughter. "Ah yes, yes Your Grace, very good."  
"I thought my Lord husband sent assassins to kill the girl?" Cersei couldn't help but wonder why this Targaryen girl hadn't dropped dead yet.  
"He did, Your Grace, but Qarth is a long way away. It takes months to get there." Varys answered. "But to be sure, if the assassin does their job, they will be successful."  
She nodded.

Pycelle looked like he was itching to say something. She gestured to him.  
"I am glad to bring the counsel good tidings from Casterly Rock." The Grand Maester announced. The table went quiet as he tried to take a rolled up letter from his robe pocket. "Is it about my grandfather?" Joffrey asked, standing up like an excited child. Then his mood changed instantly. "Hurry up!" He barked.  
"Sit down," Cersei said through gritted teeth.   
Everyone's eyes seemed to roll when Pycelle managed to drop the letter under pressure. Cersei signed audibly. Varys reached down and picked it up for Pycelle.  
"Lord Tywin has marched from Casterly Rock with two armies." Pycelle began.  
" _Two_?" Joffrey sounded confused. "Has he allied with someone?"  
"No, Your Grace," the Grand Maester continued. "Lord Tywin has twenty thousand swords under his own command, whilst your uncle Ser Jaime has already left to resume his command of the second force, over fourteen or fifteen thousand."  
"That's barely over half our forces?!" Joffrey sounded. "I thought my grandfather could raise sixty thousand?! We'll easily be outnumbered by the Stark's!"  
"Not necessarily," Cersei spoke up. "Your great-uncle Ser Stafford has been given permission to amass a third host at any time at Lannisport."

Joffrey considered for a moment. Cersei was glad he looked much better upon hearing that news. "Even so, it may not be enough." He then turned to Pycelle again. "I have a plan. Grand Maester, write to all the nobility of the Crownlands and ask them to gather their strength. I plan for them to join up with our forces."

  
Cersei went cold, and she could see the sheer disbelief on the faces of her fellow counsel members.   
"Your Grace, that may not be possible." For once, Baelish was speaking up about matters of war.   
"And why not?" Joffrey snapped. "They're sworn to me, their _King_ , and I _command_ them to do as I say."  
"If the Reach have betrayed us, we rely totally on the Crownland houses to supply us with grain and food. If we send them to war, who is to bring in the harvest? Guaranteed it will be the old men, children and cripples. We will all starve." Cersei spoke to her son. He is only a boy, he knows little of war.  
"I don't care about who brings in their stupid harvests, mother. I want their strength added to the Lannister forces, and I also want them to engage right away." Joffrey snapped. She glanced down the table. Any one of you insipid men, please make him see.. This is folly. The smallfolk in the city will riot..  
She thought she was being backed up by Janos Slynt, for a small second. "Your Grace," he began, "Your mother does speak sense, but she is a woman, and knows little of war. These crownlanders are sworn to you, and should therefore defend your rights and kingdom. Whilst they're at war, I could easily send some Gold Cloaks to assist those left behind in bringing us food supplies."

  
She bit back her anger. _What would you know of war, you butchers whelp?_ Cersei wondered why on earth this man was ever promoted. "If the Gold Cloaks are sent away to do as you say, that will mean that they are not defending the city. If Renly marches up the rose road, how will they be able to defend King's Landing if they're off harvesting?" She countered, in the kindest tone possible.  
"I could speak to Lord Rosby and Lady Stokeworth for you, Your Grace." Baelish said. "As it turns out, Lady Tanda has invited me to one of her dinners this eve, and I could.. broker an agreement with her."   
_What betrayal are you planning, Littlefinger_? She wondered. He had been the very man that had led her to the dreaded trap, that day where she and her son were imprisoned. Varys had been there too, but had came running back pleading forgiveness and servitude. Joffrey had given it to him, to Baelish, and to all the Kingsguard. She wondered where Barristan was.. It wasn't like him to miss a council session.

  
"If that is all, I say this session is at an end." Joffrey said, all of a sudden.  
Cersei looked at her son, incredulous. _It's barely been a while,_ she thought, _how is he so impatient?_  
"Joffrey, I'm sure we still have other matters to discuss.." She tried to call to him, but he was already gone. Ser Boros Blount was guarding the door.  
"We can easily discuss smaller matters, Your Grace, such as the growing number of refugees fleeing the Riverlands." Grand Maester Pycelle uttered.  
"Why are they a concern to us? Lord Janos, have your Gold Cloaks ever had to deal with any riots or scuffles recently?" She said, a bit annoyed.  
"Not that I know of, Your Grace." Slynt answered.  
"They are causing trouble, just not in the violent way." Varys spoke up. "My little birds report that the bricklaying guild is angry that so many smallfolk, both city-natives and refugees, are flooding vacancies. Some are less honest than others. And that's just the males - the women are flooding the weavers and seamstresses guilds too, taking up jobs."  
"Why are they angry about people wanting to work?" She tried not to snap. "Is it wages they are concerned about? Do they have enough to pay these.. New workers?"  
"There was no mention of wages dispute, Your Grace, just that there's so many coming in - only a select few actually know the trade, which means they're spending more time teaching than completing vital maintenance and tasks." Varys replied. Baelish was pouting across the table, as if he was scheming a plan in his head.  
"Lord Baelish, in case the mentioned guilds do come complaining that they've run out of money to pay wages, make sure they are supplied in gold." Cersei said to their Master of Coin. He nodded, making a note in his ledger book.

  
"Are there any more matters, my lords, Your Grace?" Janos Slynt asked, scanning the table, as if he was the King himself. _At least he's learned in manners, to an extent._  
She was relieved herself when they shook their heads. _The day to myself, at last._  
They all concluded the session, and the chairs scraped the floor. Pycelle took a millennia to get to his feet, even with Baelish holding his chair for him.

  
Although the dreaded counsel was finished, she had to make a visit to the High Septon. He was starting to really get on her nerves - for the man had anointed Stannis in the seven holy oils quite gladly, but hadn't yet given Joffrey his blessing. She had to negotiate that with him - for the insipid people of the city might finally see Joffrey as their King.  
A carriage was waiting for her in the outer bailey. Ser Mandon Moore and Ser Meryn Trant accompanied her, in case she was ever to come to harm.   
As the carriage made its way to the Sept of Baelor, Cersei couldn't help but think about current matters - her two missing children among them. _Myrcella, Tommen, I have failed them.._ Her heart wrenched. Varys's little birds had proved useless in trying to locate her sweet babies. Jaime had promised her before he left to fight that he'd send outriders to every town, village and holdfast asking questions about if the folk had seen them at all, but she knew it would probably be a fruitless mission. Stannis, Renly and Lord Eddard.. Every night she cursed them, for they had sold her children to Lord Stark's rabid children. Myrcella was to marry that boy that had caught her and Jaime in the tower. _They pledge my only girl to a cripple, and they will now feel my wroth._ Tommen was to marry that wild girl who's direwolf had savaged Joff. She clenched her fists as her blood boiled. _Father, Jaime, I'm begging you - make another Tarbeck Hall of Winterfell and Dragonstone, and Storm's End._

  
The carriage stopped, bringing her back to reality. "Ser Meryn, why have we stopped?"  
"There's a bunch of smallfolk listening to some preacher, Your Grace." Meryn Trant replied, drawn the curtains back.  
"Tell them to move, the High Septon is expecting me." She commanded.  
"Make way for Her Grace, the King's mother!" Ser Mandon could be heard booming moments later.   
_I am the Queen!_ She thundered in her head. The carriage did move forward, but very slowly. She could see them now, the smallfolk. Cersei could also hear the preacher - he was a haggard looking excuse of a man. "The Stranger comes, _he comes, he comes_ , to rid us of our sins-"  
She couldn't hear the rest, as the smallfolk now started protesting.

  
"Your Grace, we are hungry!"  
"Has King Joffrey forgotten his subjects?"  
" _Brother fucker_!"

  
They were shouting in all directions. "Ser Meryn, tell the driver to stop. I will speak to them."  
When the carriage stopped, she brazenly opened the door and stood. _I will try and win them to Joffrey._ She thought.   
"Good folk! May I hear of your concerns myself, so I may pass them on to my son?" She called out. They were looking at her with mixed emotions, she knew. One tanners girl looked almost green with envy, whilst others spat and turned away.  
"We go hungry, Your Grace, and food prices are rising. One baker on the Street of Silk is a fraud - for he sells bread for nothing less than twenty silver!" Some man with a grand total of six teeth shouted out. Others agreed with him.  
"The wells are being hogged as well!" Some crone proclaimed.  
"These river landers ain't helping either! I was thrown out me own house, I was! Them bastards have turned it into a whorehouse!" Some young girl in an apron told her.  
She tried to look concerned. "Please understand that my son is very busy, and is still shaken from his imprisonment. I will inform him and my counsel to impose new strategies and bring these fraudsters to justice."  
Some nodded, but she heard someone saying, "Stannis wouldn't have let us go hungry."  
Cersei went cold. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm to meet with the High Septon now. I will also talk to him about your concerns."

  
As soon as she was sat down, she frantically told Ser Meryn to get them moving. It was good that she did - as they tried to get closer to the carriage. They were shouting even louder, and the preacher said something about incest and abomination. _Lord Stannis, you will die for this_. She thought. He was the one to spread the rumour, she knew.

  
Finally at the Sept, Ser Mandon helped her down from the carriage and walked at her side with Trant. When they reached the doors, there were two men armed with cudgels. As the reached the door, they stepped in front of her.   
"Pardon me, but his High Holiness is expecting me." She said, not unkindly.  
"The High Septon is at prayer, and does not wish to be disturbed." The one on the left said.  
"You will move, else His Grace know you denied his mother entry." Ser Mandon snapped.  
Ser Meryn placed a hand on his sword belt, but then the doors opened. There stood the High Septon. "Ah, Your Grace, you have come."   
_I arranged this meeting, you lickspittle, of course I came_. She thought.

  
She left Ser Meryn and Ser Mandon outside as she stepped inside the Sept of Baelor. It was a grand building if truth be told. Outside it was adorned with a marble dome and seven crystal towers, each equipped with a bell. Inside, the entrance hall before the sept-proper was known as the Hall of Lamps, as there were seven suspended globes of coloured leaded glass that people walked under.  
As they left the Hall of Lamps, they entered the sept proper, and the High Septon led them to the Crone altar. "You wanted to discuss the manner of your son?" He asked.  
"I did." She replied. "He still hasn't been blessed with the seven oils. Any reason for your reluctance?"   
"In all honesty Your Grace, I have been busy. Your sons war has brought in refugees, and they come to me for guidance, as I speak for the gods. In fact, I spent the day in Flea Bottom yesterday, giving out soup." The man said, proudly.   
"My _sons_ war?" She said, incredulous. "It is Robb Stark marching down the kingsroad, with all his banners. We offered him generous _peace_ terms, I remind you, and he spat in our faces."  
"Tell me, what do you plan for Lord Eddard Stark?" The High Septon asked, as if he hadn't heard her speaking. "I assume he'll be put on trial, which will most likely be held here if I'm not mistaken?"  
"I'm afraid I cannot answer that yet," Cersei said. "Until my father and brother crush the Stark boy to the point where he and his northern dogs _have_ to negotiate peace terms, Lord Eddard will be held prisoner in the black cells."  
"Let us pray to the Warrior they defeat him soon then, for I'd rather not have northerners outside the walls. They worship weirwood trees, very few follow the Seven." The High Septon replied.   
"Joffrey says the same. He even said that the gods are punishing them for both their treason and false faith." Cersei said, hoping he'd fall for it. Joffrey had said no such thing.  
"A clever King your boy is, Your Grace." The High Septon said. "I can tell he holds the faith in high regards. Now that I think about it, I seem so very stupid to not have blessed him right away - for Stannis has proved false in his faith too."  
He took one look up at the Mother's statue before turning to her again. "I have decided, Your Grace, that King Joffrey shall be blessed tomorrow at midday, if it isn't inconvenient for you."

  
She almost gushed like a girl. "Splendid, Your High Holiness, I knew I could count on you." She paused. "The people should be allowed to witness it, I think. Then they might forget all about Stannis and Renly altogether. I've so desperately tried to make them love my son."  
"I concur, Your Grace. The smallfolk are very pious and show it every day out on the plaza below, so they should trust in your son if I bless him." They started walking back towards the Hall of Lamps.  
"One more thing," she started. "Have any of the Faith or your Most Devout heard anything in regards to my other children - Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen? My evil brothers by-law stole them from me." She asked, trying to dilute her anger at the end.  
"I confess, I haven't." The man explained. "Though I pray everyday that they be returned to you. Princess Myrcella was always so sweet, kind and graceful, Tommen the same. May the Warrior and the Maiden be with them, wherever they are."   
It wasn't lost on Cersei that the man said Myrcella _was_ so sweet, not _is_ , - it made them sound like they were dead, which made her emotions spiral. An image was placed in her mind then - her worst fear - Myrcella and Tommen dead, as that wretched old hag had prophesied in Lannisport all those years ago, when her and Melara and Jeyne had dared go to her tent. _Gold shall be their crowns, and gold their shrouds_.

  
The stuffy candles placed all around the room didn't help her eyes tearing up. Her heart also seemed to be in her throat, and suddenly she felt quite ill. "Your Grace?" The High Septon looked very concerned as she sped away from him. "Are you well?"  
"Air. I need air." Was all she said. She practically sprinted out of the Hall of Lamps and gave the two men on the door outside quite a scare. Ser Meryn and Ser Mandon were flooding her on both sides as she hurried down the steps.   
"Your Grace, are you okay?" Trant asked.  
"Did anything happen to you in there?" Ser Mandon asked.  
"Nothing happened. I just thought of my children." Was all she said as she rushed into the carriage and shut the doors behind her without a backwards glance. In less than a minute they were moving again, back to the Red Keep.  
She rubbed her eyes furiously, though it didn't stop the flow of tears. "Stop it," she told herself, "stop torturing me, they are _not_ dead!"

  
Taking a different route, which didn't involve running into the preachers mob, they reached the Red Keep a lot quicker. When she disembarked the carriage in the yard, the Hound was sparring with some unfortunate squire whose shield was getting pounded to pieces. The Redwyne twins, called Hobber and Slobber (not to their faces) were practising with lances, the Red Keep's master-of-arms Ser Aron Santagar supervising.

  
She spied Joffrey cheering on the Hound at the side of the yard under a spectator pavilion. Lord Gyles Rosby was coughing up what seemed to be _phlegm_ and his afternoon meal into a handkerchief, Lady Tanda and her sheepy daughters next to him clearly trying not to be sick themselves.  
She approached them, pushing her emotions aside and tried to look happy. Lollys Stokeworth announced her arrival. "Your Grace, you're looking radiant!"  
 _I was until you said that,_ she thought bitterly.  
Joffrey acknowledged her. "Mother." He said as he kissed her cheek in politeness. "Have you been crying?"  
"Of delight." She paused. "You will have to look your best tomorrow Joffrey, for the High Septon is giving you his blessing at midday."  
Lady Tanda and her brood gasped and cheered delight. Lord Gyles attempted to do the same, but coughed halfway through. The whole yard seemed to want to know then, and she told them all. Joffrey basked in the praise of it all, you would of thought he was getting married.

  
It was then she noticed Ser Barristan. She politely excised herself and went after him. _That old fool sat looking solemn at the council table when they dragged me away to Maegor's._ She remembered. Joffrey may have forgiven him, but she hadn't. She would never trust in him again.  
"Ser Barristan, where are you off to?" She asked in a polite tone.  
"My shift has changed, Your Grace, Ser Meryn will guard the King now." He informed her.  
"You missed a rather rash council session," she said. "Joffrey wants to send the crownland forces to join up with my father and brother."  
That took the old knight by surprise. "Surely not? He couldn't have meant.. It would be foolish, pardon me. The Vale will likely side with the Stark's, and if His Grace sends the crownlanders into the fray.. I fear the eastern coast will be entirely vulnerable."  
"I thought that too. In fact, we all did, and we told Joffrey, but my son... He's adamant about this, and wants them to engage right away. You are a veteran of half a hundred wars and battles, Ser Barristan, you are known as a great knight. Joffrey has always admired you. Would it be too much of me to ask you to persuade him that leaving entire kingdoms vulnerable isn't a good idea?" Cersei said, trying to sound desperate.  
"I will try my very best, Your Grace, and I hope I do not fail you in this." He replied, smiling. She smiled back. _You best hope you don't, old fool, else it will mean your head._

  
As she watched him walk away, she had one last person to visit. It would be the first time even seeing his face since the day Jaime had dragged him in chains back to the city in a roofed turnip cart.

 


	28. Eddard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said I'd release this the day after the previous chapter, but my iPad (which I use to write these chapters on) ran out of battery, and just my luck, it's charger decided not to work, so I had to order a new one. But nethertheless, we're back up and running :)

  
He had no clue how long he'd been down in the dreaded black cells for, but he did know it was slowly driving him insane.

  
Whenever he closed his eyes, he was plagued by dreams. He would never speak of them to anyone, for they involved the promises that still haunted him to this day. He often dreamed of the Tower of Joy - of Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, as fierce as he was loyal. Ser Arthur Dayne had been there too, in all his glory, armed with Dawn, the ancient fabled blade of House Dayne. The last of Aerys's Kingsguard that had been there was Ser Oswell Whent, with his helmet emblazoned with a black bat with spread wings, the sigil of his house. All three of them had died in the fight.

  
His companions had all died as well, except for Howland Reed. Willam Dustin, Ethan Glover, who had been Brandon's squire, Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull, and Ser Mark Ryswell - all had perished within minutes. To this day, he was sure Lady Barbrey Dustin still blamed him for her husband's demise, and shunned him for it. _I never meant for it to happen_ , he thought, _if the Kingsguard had let us pass, it wouldn't have needed to come to blood. I never meant for them to die so far from home._

  
He much preferred the happier dreams he had, from leaving Starfall with Howland and his escaped love. He still found it baffling how they had to go to so much trouble to be together - Howland's lover had faked her own death in order to escape the castle whilst they waited for her three miles north. He found that particular secret almost as hard to keep as Lyanna's dying promise. Ned even smiled for the first time in a while when he remembered how they begged him to perform their wedding rites and vows. There were only four of them, and no heart tree, so he had to be a Septon of the faith in the situation. It was happy though - he never expected Howland to ever fall in love, and the woman he married was an unexpected but good choice of bride. _Howland.. Does he know I'm a prisoner?_ He wondered. Howland Reed had saved his life once, he could easily do it again by getting him out of this foul place. _I should never have came here.._

  
The gaelors appeared three times a day to feed him bland and almost unappetising meals, and Ned used their appearances to mark the passage of time. The second meal had come and gone, and so he guessed it was mid-afternoon. They had fed him what looked to be (or once resembled) thick soup, which he guessed was pea. Every few mouthfuls or so he tasted small chunks of what tasted like ham hock.

  
That was what his days consisted of, down in these black cells. His leg had been injured during the fight in Duskendale, when the Kingslayer had him surrounded and when he fell from his horse. The past few days the pain had been so sore and aching that he told the gaelor to summon _Ice_ , his Valyrian steel greatsword, so that he could end the pain and cut it off. Today, the pain wasn't even that bad, somehow. The swelling had gone down as well. He wondered if they were sending a maester to him as he slept - Cat had always told him how he could sleep through a thunderstorm, so he wouldn't have been surprised.

  
His thoughts turned to his family then. _What must they think of me?_ He had brought dishonour to them in more ways than he could count - he had planned treason with the Baratheon brothers as soon as Robert had died, he'd betrothed most of his children without their consent, and imprisoned the queen and her son. Even earlier than that, he'd lied to them for years, and had taken a boy of ten away from his mother, causing her to go mad with grief. _And people call me honourabl_ e.

  
Ned threw his now-empty bowl of soup across the room, and could just make out it smashing against the opposite wall into tiny little pieces. He had sent his eldest daughter away back to Winterfell for her own safety, yet he had still been shaken and angry and upset about her tourney efforts that he had practically snapped at her. He didn't mean to be, he hadn't even been angry at _her_ \- she had faced the false knight Ser Gregor Clegane in the last tilt, and had beaten him, but when it was revealed that he'd lost to a girl, the Mountain That Rides had attacked her. Ned remembered how the world seemed to pass extremely slowly, his heart had dropped to the earth and he could barely speak, yet he managed to shout. " _LEAVE HER_!" He recalled saying, " _DON'T HURT HER_!!" It was stupid, as the crowd was going wild, and Ser Gregor would never have cared anyway. He had added in a raspy and broken voice barely louder than a whisper "She is my daughter, my little girl, please.. Don't.."

  
He'd never been more proud that Lyanna had managed to block Ser Gregor's giant swings. He wondered just where she'd learnt how to hold a lance, tilt against the best Knights in the realm, and defend herself with a sword, but somehow he knew he'd never be able to ask her. Like as not, he was a prisoner, and the vile boy on the Iron Throne was as unsuitable a King as Maegor the Cruel, the fourth Aegon, Baelor the Blessed and Mad Aerys had ever been. The boy had a desire for blood as well. _I will die in this wretched city,_ he somehow knew, _and I'll never see Cat or my children again_. Somehow he never wept.

  
He paused, as he heard talking outside his cell. He strained to hear the voices, but the door and walls were thick stone. _It's probably nothing,_ he thought, _the gaelors must be changing shifts._  
He was overtly startled when he heard the jingling of keys, and his door handle being turned. When the door opened, he wondered if it was Lannister men coming to bring him to Joffrey for execution, or maybe if it was Ser Jaime coming to taunt him. Whoever it was, they brought a torch.   
His eyes strained as they adjusted to the light. When they refocused, he felt a feeling of dread course through his veins. "Your Grace?"

  
Cersei Lannister wore a gown of jade, and her long blonde hair was loosely hanging down. She had rings on her fingers, he could see. Her face held an expression of disappointment and disgust. "You."  
 _I see where Joffrey gets his courtesies from_ , he thought.  
"Why are you here, what's happened?" He asked, suddenly worried. "Is it my family? Please, I'm begging, don't harm my children.."  
"How ironic," the queen muttered, "I said roughly the same thing when the gaelors came to visit me in my cell in Maegor's - the cell _you_ helped put me in."  
He gulped. "Wheels of power are forever turning."  
"And yet here you are, at the bottom of the wheel whilst I'm on top, even though it was opposite for both of us barely two moons ago." Cersei Lannister stood over him now. "I must say, what on earth made you stay in _Duskendale_ whilst your schemers played their little plot? Why not Maidenpool or Driftmark or Dragonstone, where your friend Stannis lingers? It didn't take long for Jaime to work his way to Duskendale after searching Rosby and Stokeworth, it's barely fifty leagues from here."  
He shuffled on the floor slightly, pushing further up against the wall his back was to. "I thought the Rykker's didn't know.."  
She chuckled. "Oh Lord Stark, somebody _always_ knows. T'is true, they didn't know at first, but when my brother came knocking they revealed all."  
"They're traitors in their own right," he grumbled.  
"The crow calls the raven black" Cersei was writhing in amusement. "The Dun Fort now flies my sons banner from its highest tower, I'll have you know. They handed your youngest daughter over to us as well."  
He jolted forward, sending a flare of pain up his leg, but he didn't even wince. " _Arya_?! What did they do to her?! _Answer me, damn you, what have they done with my daughter?!_ "  
The queen had jumped back slightly when he pushed forward. All her amusement was now gone. "Your little wretch managed to escape us somewhere on the road back to this city."  
That gave him pause, and a little bit of hope and pride. " _What_? How?"  
"Don't ask me. Even Jaime is still baffled by it. His men swore she was soundly knocked out for three days after they captured her, for it was the only way to capture her without protesting." Her face then got colder. "I should also be asking about the whereabouts of my astray children, Lord Stark. You had _no right, no right_ to take Myrcella and Tommen from me." Her voice broke a bit.  
"I confess, I wasn't responsible for them. Renly seen to their whereabouts." Was all he said, hoping he didn't anger her more.

  
She laughed a dangerous laugh. "You expect me to believe that? They're betrothed to _your_ children, you spiteful creature. You and my husband's foul brothers took them from me." The queen paused, and then said in a sad and desperate tone, "Why did you do that?"  
 _She sounds close to tears_ , he thought, looking at her. He was about to answer, but oddly the queen smiled and continued speaking. He didn't fail to notice one tear land on her cheek. "You see? We're more alike than we know, my Lord. We both love our children, so deeply it hurts to be apart from them. We're both searching and yearning for them."  
"Please, tell me," he began, "what news is there?"  
"I'm surprised the Spider hasn't come scuttling to you at every alone opportunity." She replied, a small smile on her face. "Your son marches down the kingsroad with your bannermen behind him. The riverlands have made common cause with him. My father will destroy them, of course. I'm sure you already know about the state of the Riverlands."   
"Robb is just a boy." He said.   
"What other alliances did you make, Lord Stark?" She demanded. "Why is your Sansa off to Dorne? I'm warning you, if you've got the Dornish on your side, I'll make sure your Sansa is dragged back here after Dorne is burned."  
His anger flared, but he didn't let it affect him. _Little does she know she's also got to contend with the Reach and Stormlands._  
"Renly has styled himself King." The queen added, before walking towards the door.  
That took him back. " _Renly_?! B-but.. He allied with his brother?"  
"We all thought so to, now they're against each other. Isn't it weird how the world works, my lord?" Cersei said, before opening the door. Just before she was about to leave him back in the darkness, she looked him in the eyes. "My son has invited to be generous, Lord Stark. Confess your crimes, bend the knee to Joffrey, call him your King, and we will let you live the rest of your life upon the Wall. Now, isn't living your life as a Lord Commander and alongside your brother a much better option than refusing, and being killed?" She let the question hang rhetorically. "I hope your so-called honour deems you make the first choice, and not the latter." And just like that, she had left, the door closing and locking behind her.

  
Ned spent the rest of the day thinking on her words.


	29. Aegon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Essos we go! As you can probably guess, I made up all the names of the Norvosi nobility, so they aren't Offical ASOIAF characters or anything, just purely made up. I know they sound Ghiscari and Valyrian but I gave it my best shot aha.

  
Lady Mellario hosted them in her manse after their meeting. She seemed so delighted about Aegon's survival that she even said they could stay for as long as years if they so wanted. Aegon did like the idea, but he knew deep down that it just wouldn't be possible. Mellario had a lot of power in Norvos - she, like all the other heads of the noble families, - had a seat on the government council. Her manse was far from being the biggest, but she had a lot of riches she was reluctant to spend much of, but even for her nephew she wouldn't spend it all. But if they were to acquire armies, they simply couldn't do it in Norvos - the council would certainly ask questions, and who knows - what if they decided to punish lady Mellario if they traced it back to her?

  
The manse was very comfortable, and it was good to sleep on a soft feather bed again. Jon had certainly relaxed and was becoming less tense and angry, since they now had an ally in Mellario. In his room was a lovely oak bookcase packed with loads of books about Norvos and its history, as well as books about further lands across Essos - there were ones about the Great Empire of the Dawn, The Thousand Islands, the cities of The Bones, Yi Ti, and even old scrolls about Sothoryos and Ulthos. They were big books though, and even if they enjoyed Mellario's hospitality for a year, Aegon wasn't sure he'd be able to get through them all, even in that time span. _I wonder if I'll be able to take them with me, when we eventually depart?_ He hoped he would - not even Haldon had books on Ulthos.

  
One sunny afternoon four days after their arrival, he was sat out on his balcony terrace trying to dry his freshly washed (and dyed) hair in the heat whilst reading about the Bloodstone Emperor when he heard a rap at his chamber door. "Come in!" He called, hoping they could hear him. When he noticed it was Connington, he remembered his rolled-up breeches, so he quickly rolled them back down to their normal length.  
Connington looked refreshed and back to himself. He squinted at the cover of the book Aegon had in his hands, "Reading something different?"  
"The Bloodstone Emperor." Aegon said, barely able to take his eyes off the page.  
Connington clearly had no clue who he was on about. "Is it a Westerosi history?"  
"Nope," Aegon began. "He was the last ruler of the Empire of the Dawn. He was younger than his sister, the Amethyst Empress, but he killed her himself to become the new ruler. He was a bit like my grandfather and Maegor the Cruel before him - he ruled with terror. He was a torturer, a necromancer, and practised cannibalism and dark arts. Some say that when he usurped his sister, he started the Long Night. He enslaved his own people, took a tiger-woman for his wife, and cast down the true gods of Yi Ti to instead worship some black stone that fell from the sky."  
Jon looked a bit disturbed. "A bit dark, don't you think?"  
"Aye," Aegon bookmarked the page he was on before setting it down on one of the small tables beside his chair. "Clearly you didn't come here to ask questions about books, though."  
Jon smiled. "You're an observant lad," he said as he looked out to the view of the city. "There's something we're required to go to."  
"Does it involve me wearing a bag over my head again?" He grimaced.  
"No. A few members of the ruling council have learned about our arrival and are curious to meet us. Thankfully, Lady Mellario trusts them with her life, as they are close friends to her - I think she said she's actually related to them somehow as well. Anyway, they're holding some spectacle at their manses and Mellario - sorry, we, - have been invited." Jon Connington explained.  
Aegon perked up. "A party? Surely I'll have to wear something more decent."  
"Your clothes look fine - just give your hair a comb. We leave shortly." Connington turned to leave.

  
One of Mellario's servants came to escort him down to the entrance hall a short while later, just as he was finishing polishing his boots. As they were descending the stairs, he looked over the railing to see his beloved companions. He could make out Jon, Ser Rolly and Yandry, but he couldn't see Haldon, Lemore or Ysilla.  
He stepped off the stairs and was immediately accosted by his aunt. "You look charming." She said, lovingly, as if he was her son and not her nephew.  
"Thank you, my lady. As do you." He smiled.  
As they were getting into the carriage that was taking them presumably up the Sinner's Steps, Aegon whispered to Yandry, "where's Septa Lemore, and Ysilla?"  
"Poor Ysilla has stomach cramps, from her moon blood." Yandry answered as he was clambering in. "Mellario gave her a potion for it, but she was going to stay anyway. Lemore was oddly feeling weary too, but she wants us to enjoy tonight."  
"What even will happen at this spectacle?" Aegon wondered. "Are Norvosi parties any different to any other parties?"  
"I don't think so," Yandry said as he gave Aegon his hand to help him into the carriage. "Jon said there would be food and drink though, so I'll be happy."  
When he got inside the spacious carriage, he plonked down in between Mellario and Duckfield. She gave him a smile, which he returned. The carriage set off almost immediately once everyone was seated.

  
He was looking out the window for practically the whole journey, wanting to actually see Norvos this time. From his balcony he got a great view of the city, but his rooms were situated on the wrong side of the manse to the Sinner's Steps and the Three Bells, so he was desperate to see them.   
"How is this mere carriage getting up the Steps?" He asked.  
"There's the Sinner's Steps, but there's also an uphill road which allows carriages and horses to get up to the upper half of the city." His aunt answered. "Despite the Sinner's Steps being over three hundred feet high, you'd think that there's no way carriages could climb an uphill road that high. Surprisingly, the road isn't even that steep, so even the oldest cart horse or the meekest donkey could manage it fine."

  
That confused him a bit, but he didn't delve deeper into it. He stayed quiet and watched the world go by, which was very relaxing. Barely a week ago they were meandering up the Noyne, not even sure if they would find help in Norvos as Illyrio said. The cheesemonger had been right though - he'd reconnected with a family member he never knew existed. _I will find more family in Dorne, where my mother hails from._ The thought comforted him. He knew about his uncles Oberyn and Doran, and that they had children of their own, some of them grown adults. _When we all meet during my conquest, it will be oh so sweet._ Jon had told him plenty of tales about his father, but none of his father's family remained apart from Viserys and Daenerys, wherever they were. _Hells, they could be dead or lost to me, anywhere from Braavos to Qarth._ Jon had told him that plenty of lords and ladies in Westeros remembered Rhaegar Targaryen and how just and good and how great a king he would have been. _I will speak to all of them, one day,_ he was determined. _I will hear their stories about him. It will be sweet to be talking to more people who knew him and my mother._ He hoped he would find more friends in these people holding the party.

  
The journey was smooth, but from time to time you could feel yourself tipping back slightly in the carriage as it adjusted to the gradient of the road. His ears were popping slightly too, a sign they were quite high up now. _Did the dragonriders feel like this, every time they mounted their dragons - as they went up and up and up until they could touch the clouds?_ He knew there were no more dragons ruling the skies, but he liked to think of them, and his ancestors. He'd already decided what kind of King he would be. _I'm only a boy, but so was Jaehaerys the Conciliator when he ascended the throne. I will be as good as him, if not better. Aegon the Unlikely drew up rights for the smallfolk, and they liked him for it, even though his lords didn't._  
He was brought out of his thoughts when Ser Rolly broke the silence. "Do you think these friends of yours will support us, lady Mellario?"  
"They are distant kin to me, so they would never go against me. It should be known - whenever Viserys and Daenerys came seeking refuge years ago, they would always speak up in the government meetings saying how the city should welcome them, so they are sympathetic to dragons." His aunt explained. Aegon perked up at the mention of his aunt and uncle. _Daenerys is only about a year younger than me, I couldn't even imagine running from city to city. Why didn't Illyrio ever have her and Viserys join up with us?_ He would ask Illyrio that one day, if they ever went back to Pentos. It made him confident that these people would at least offer them aid, and wouldn't harm them.

  
He could feel the ground levelling out beneath him, so they'd obviously reached the upper part of the city of Norvos. _That didn't take long at all._  
"We shouldn't be far off now." Mellario said, trying to get a good look out the window.   
The carriage came to a stop, but it was only a brief one, as he heard gates screeching open. When they trotted inside, everyone was vying for a look at the manse. When they stepped outside, even Aegon was amazed - it was far bigger than lady Mellario's, and it had more windows and expanded more breadthways. _That's a good sign, it may be they have more wealth and power, so can therefore purchase an army if need be._.  
The stones crunched beneath them as they walked up to the huge double doors of the manse. Jon fell in beside him. "These may be friends, but you never know who else has been invited here. Keep a low profile when you mingle with people."  
"I will." He nodded.

  
When they got inside, the hosts were waiting for them before the entrance to what looked like the room to the party, as there were tables all around the side due to a dance floor taking up the main space. Servants were milling about precariously balancing trays of food and drink among the guests.  
Mellario and their hosts greeted each other in the Norvosi tongue. They hugged and kissed cheeks many times before Mellario seemed to explain something low in the hosts ears. Every once in a while she looked to them. Yandry was almost gawking at the high roof and tapestries and even the utensils.  
Their hosts, who seemed to be a husband and wife duo, then smiled greatly at them and spoke quietly in the common tongue, "Welcome, King Aegon and company, to our manse and hospitality."  
He smiled and greeted the lady. "It's a pleasure, my lady."   
"You have no cause to mistrust us, sires." The man explained in a deep accent. "Me and Mellario are cousins. I am Magister Zoro Dolarre, and this is my wife Lady Zylla Votyris. We are honoured to host you all."  
"Though we thought your party was bigger." The lady Zylla looked curious, with her long golden hair and deep brown eyes. "We had heard there were women amongst you."  
Jon Connington answered. "They decided to stay. One wasn't feeling well, and the other didn't want to intrude."  
"A pity, we would have welcomed them all the same." Magister Zoro sounded down for a second, but then cheered up. "But nevertheless - please, do enter! Eat and drink and talk! Once everybody is here, our musicians will start up a dance."

  
Aegon stepped forward into the spacious room alongside his aunt whilst Jon, Yandry and Rolly introduced themselves quickly to their hosts. There were a lot of people here already, and more were to come. Some were looking at him, others just glanced. He noticed there were boys and girl his age, and older and younger, in the room.   
"I hope they all speak the common tongue," Aegon whispered to his aunt. "I never quite grasped Norvosi, Qohorik or Lorathi."  
Mellario laughed. "Do not worry. All noble children are taught it from a young age - why I do not know, as we rarely get trade from Westeros. But you'll have no trouble here."  
He thought that odd, but was relieved. He seen a table full of sweets to the side, and politely excused himself before meandering over. The small but filling looking confectionaries were clearly Norvosi, for they looked to be nut flavoured.  
He was about to try one when he felt a person appear next to him. He gave a quick glance and clearly deduced that they were wanting to talk to him. The lad looked to be Aegon's age, and had the same tall and slim build. His skin looked quite tanned, and he had dark curly hair.  
"Hello." Aegon said, careful not to stutter. _I am a King, I must be proper and courteous_.  
"Good evening, I do not believe I've ever seen you around Great Norvos before. Are you Tyroshi?" The boy asked, looking at Aegon's hair.  
 _I'll not tell him who I am yet, I need to wait and see if he can be trusted_. "I confess, this is my first visit to Great Norvos. Lady Mellario was kind to invite me along with her. How do you happen to know Magister Zoro and lady Zylla?"  
"I'm the son of Magister Gorakkus, who is the head of the city council and the chairman of the noble families council. You may have seen him across the room - he's the fat one." They both chuckled at that, and Aegon pinpointed instantly the boy's father - he was indeed overweight, but he had a stern look even when he was talking. _He looks dangerous._  
"So he decides what laws to pass and final decisions to make?" Aegon asked.  
"Yes. He likes it, but it gets stressful. He's also grooming me for politics, for when I eventually become the Head of the House of Zodurr." The boy was revealing all. _House Zodurr.. did Mellario ever mention them as being her friends? I cannot remember._  
"I forgot my manners, what is your name?" Aegon asked politely.  
"My name is Garin Zodurr." The lad replied with a smile. He leaned forward. "I know yours."

  
His heart raced a bit - how did he know who he was?! He'd only arrived a few minutes ago.  
"H-how?" Aegon stuttered.  
"Relax. The noble House of Zodurr is not your enemy, Aegon Targaryen." Garin whispered. "Magister Zoro is my father's brother by marriage - my father wed his sister. If you're an ally of Mellario's, you're an ally of House Zodurr."   
He sighed in relief. "I didn't think it would be that easy, here in Norvos. Will all the families and magisters be my allies?" He half-japed.  
Garin laughed. "Most might, as a rule, but there are the scheming ones that vie to climb to the top - ones that would gladly sell your identity to your enemies. I know my father looks shifty - but he is not. Introduce yourself to him later, and he will soon pledge himself to you."  
"Speaking of introductions, you should introduce me to all the other guests our age." Aegon said. Garin was happy to oblige - he was soon chatting away to two twin boys - both six-and-ten, - of the House of Gondoro. He was also aquatinted with a lad of nine-and-ten called Handaar Ghu who was the Norvosi equivalent of a squire. It was interesting as his father was a Norvosi nobleman, but his mother was Yi Ti'ish. _How that marriage came about, I'm not so sure._ The lads eyes were almond shaped.

  
He was introduced to girls too, and he tried his hand at flirting. Garin's cousin Aeri was a year younger than Aegon, but was quick witted and charming. She was pretty. She was telling him how she'd recently been to Astapor with her father to buy slaves - only, they had bought the slaves to set them free and live as servants under their care if they chose to. He was quite inspired by her tale. _Her family obviously oppose the slave trade._  
Soon enough, he had that much girls around him that Jon and Ser Rolly were grinning and smirking at him across the room. When it came to the dancing, he made sure to give each girl equal amounts of attention so to not cause arguments. He took a turn with his aunt, who moved graciously despite her age.  
"You're fast becoming popular," she smirked as her twirled her thrice under his arm.  
He couldn't help but blush. "Garin Zodurr seems to know all the noble children. He introduced me to them all."  
"Ah, that lad. They say he's promising with a sword, and good at his politics. Truth be told, I prefer him to that bleeting father of his. The man's always got something to say at the councils, and barely lets anyone speak anything humanitarian lest he just scoff and move on." Mellario made a face at the portly man who was just down from them. Aegon chuckled.

  
The female partners moved on, and this time he was partnered with an older noblewoman, who he soon learned was Garin's mother. "So you're the Dragon King."  
He tried to speak as they waltzed. "Yes, my lady. I hope to conquer the Seven Kingdoms under the Targaryen banner again one day."  
"My son seemed to quickly befriend you. I've been watching you - you have an easy grace for a boy of fourteen." She said.  
He smiled. "I thank you, my lady."  
This part of the dance required them to sidestep and then rejoin, but they talked more after that bit. "How long do you plan to linger in Norvos?" She asked.  
"I am unsure, though my aunt would like us to stay for eternity." He chuckled as they done their second waltz.   
"I'm assuming you're unmarried." The woman commented.  
 _Oh, I know where this is going_ , he thought. "Yes, my lady."  
Before the partners moved on, the woman gave him a proposal. "I have a daughter a year older than Garin - Zea, she is called, flowered and fertile. Garin could easily become your brother by-law if you, Aegon Targaryen, take Zea to wife and become not only the future King of the Seven Kingdoms, but the immediate King of Norvos."

He was shocked to say the least. Before she moved on, he found his voice. 'I will have to speak with my companions about that, my lady. When I take back my grandfathers throne, I will have to take a Westerosi wife to prove my legitimacy."  
"The Conqueror had two wives, and if I'm not mistaken, some other dragon Lord was offered a bride from every seven kingdom." The lady simply said before smiling.  
He was surprised he continued to dance, for he kept thinking about the woman's words. _King of Norvos? It has a ring to it._ He knew it wasn't entirely practical - why would the Westerosi accept him if he came to their shores with a Norvosi wife already on his arm? He knew the Faith of the Seven shunned polygamy, and he would rather not have he lovely Septa Lemore no longer love him. Plus, Norvos was a _Free_ City, - they did not have King's or Queens. _Unless the House of Zodurr are planning to make themselves monarchs._

  
He was glad when the dancing concluded, for he was sure he was sweating. He accepted a glass of wine off a servant and was joined by Ser Rolly.  
"Good wine," the first of his Kingsguard praised his glass.   
"I was made a marriage offer." Aegon said, nonchalantly.  
Ser Rolly almost spat out his drink. "Eh? You what?"  
"The wife of the head of the ruling councils offered me her daughter if I would agree to be the King of Norvos." He explained.  
Ser Rolly looked like a child on his name day, but was also speechless. "Bloody hells. You best tell yer aunt, Jon and Yandry, they'll want to hear this," he paused as he gulped another swig of wine, "Are you going to accept?"  
"I don't bloody know, it was only proposed to me minutes ago." He answered.  
When he eventually gathered his companions to one of the quiet corners of the room, he told them the proposal. Mellario didn't seem shocked, "She offered Zea to the Emperor of Yi Ti a few years back, and when that was refused, she proposed her to the Archon of Tyrosh's son, which also failed."  
"She's ambitious." Jon said, whether in praise or scorn it was hard to tell.  
"Do you know what the girl looks like, my lady? It's odd she isn't in attendance tonight." Aegon asked.  
"She's a lovely girl. She once was my cupbearer. Gorgeous skin, neither too light nor too dark, and she's never had a spot in her life. Good hips, good wits, and slim body, though she's quite, erm.. _Top_ heavy." Mellario answered.  
"She doesn't seem too bad then - I say a good suitor." Was all Yandry said.  
"When we take King's Landing, you need to be free for marriage." Jon did disapprove, but only from a long-term prospective, Aegon judged. "Whether you take a bride from the reach, north, vale, Riverlands, so on so on, it will help seal an alliance and get more men to our banners."  
"Aegon the Conqueror had two wives," he replied.  
"Aye, and the Faith shunned him. They only reluctantly crowned him." Jon said, a bit sharply. "I'm not sure what your father would think if he knew you were taking some Norvosi girl to wed and bed."  
 _It's like he chooses to forget my father had both Elia Martell and Lyanna Stark,_ Aegon thought.  
"So I'm guessing we're refusing marriage." Aegon said. "But what if there was another deal we could make?"  
"What do you mean? She's hardly going to marry _me_." Ser Rolly said.  
"Well, what if... Oh, I just remembered, you don't do fostering in Norvos." He knew the topic of fostering children was a bad one around Mellario, so he didn't delve into it.  
"What would allying with the House of Zodurr bring us, honestly?" Jon Connington asked Mellario. "What power do they hold, except basically governing the city?"  
"They supply roughly a thousand men to Norvos's army from boys and men they collect from their various other allies and estates. They lumber and sell more wood than any other Norvosi family, and they have trade deals with Braavos, Volantis, Ibben, Lys and Myr." Mellario was thinking.   
"That settles it then," Jon seemed to conclude their debate. "Aegon Targaryen shan't marry into a family of foresters."  
"I still wish to have good relations with them though," he insisted.   
"They're friends of mine. They won't take your refusal personally - after all, they've already been refused by Emperors and Archon's, I don't know how they think they be accepted by a King." Mellario assured them.  
"They know we need allies." Jon said, looking over his shoulder. "And they're using that to their advantage, thinking we're that desperate we'd accept straight away. They're certainly clever and cunning, I'll give them that."

  
They were about to rejoin the party when Lady Zylla came up to them. "I don't know how, but members of the most scheming houses in Norvos have basically invited themselves here. Zoro is stalling them for as long as possible but I think they're here to see you. They've brought their daughters along as well, all very seductive looking ladies, so don't fall for them."  
"Tell them they've missed the party - pretend it's already ended." Mellario seemed concerned.  
"We should take our leave. Lad, go say bye to all your friends-"  
"-it's too late, they've waltzed right in." Yandry said.  
The room seemed to go quiet for a second before it went back to gossiping. "They're clearly not well loved."  
"Schemers rarely are." Ser Rolly said.  
Aegon could see the head of one of the houses scan the room. He was a tall fellow, dressed in an odd hat and mostly all black. His daughter was on his arm, and she was a nice sight in a loose hanging gown. Her eyes looked permanently lusty. Another man, clearly of one of the other scheming houses, stepped in too, this time with three children around him. Two of his daughters looked like twins, and we're very buxom, whilst his son was very young.  
Aegon caught eyes with Garin across the room, and they seemed to know it was getting slightly tenser.

  
One of the buxom daughters made a beeline for him. She walked over to him as if she was flaunting. He couldn't help but glance at the girls breasts, which were poking out slightly. She seemed to catch him doing this, for she smirked. "You are handsome." The girl said in a sultry Norvosi accent, stroking his face with one hand.   
"What is your name, my lady?" He asked, politely. He hoped he wasn't growing hard.  
"Gazzea of the House of Zodoor. I've heard much and more about you." She replied. _You mean you've heard about me from your father, who told you and your sister to seduce me and get me to lay with you,_ he thought. He wouldn't actually mind doing that, but he was meant to stay pure.  
"Have you?" He decided to mildly flirt.  
"You are strong. So toned. Are you a warrior?" She almost whispered as she ran a hand down his chest and practically felt him up.  
"I know how to fight." Was all he said as he took a drink of the wine he was still holding. As he did that, his eyes searched for his friends. He didn't fail to notice the girl's father was evidently looking over to see how his daughter was doing in her seduction attempt.  
"I imagine your sword is sharp." She giggled.  
 _Two can play this game,_ Aegon thought. "I'm yet to see the Three Bells, but I'd gladly ring you to see what sound you'd make."   
The girl grinned and looked down. _I'll play her like cyvasse_.

  
He noticed Mellario walking over to him and gestured him to place a hand on the girls shoulder, but to hold his hand out slightly. He did, and she placed a bit of paper in his hand. He almost couldn't believe what it read.

  
" _The Zodoor's are coming to my manse tomorrow to talk of an economic alliance. He's bringing his daughters. Bed one of them if you can - the man will be bound to us if his daughter births him a grandson with dragon blood."_

  
The mere thought that he could be bedding the girl in front of him in less than a day stirred something in him. _Surely Jon won't approve of this?_ After all, the man had just said he needed to be kept free of marriage for when they went to Westeros. If the head of House Zodoor knew his daughter was carrying a child, it would be born a bastard - unless he married Aegon to his daughter straight away. _This plan is madness? What is their thinking behind this? I'm fifteen in a few moons, I can't be a father yet! My mother would box my ears when my time comes to ascend to the heavens._

  
Gazzea didn't even seem to notice that there was a plan in motion to potentially dishonour her. She continued to feel him up - getting lower every minute. Her twin sister was near Garin and the others. Her father's eyes were still staring into Aegon's soul.

  
When they eventually retired back to Mellario's manse when the party ended, Aegon couldn't help but think about what on earth they were planning for him - why did he have to bed Gazzea? They wouldn't reveal it to him. It felt like their journey to Norvos all over again - never being told about any plans.

  
He had a rather lovely dream that night that involved Gazzea, and her sweet sister.. Which ultimately made him wake up a bit soiled.

  
That same morning, the comet appeared in the sky.


	30. Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so we haven't had an arya chapter for a good while, so here's one on just how she escaped on the way back from Duskendale. I'm sure you can guess what happens to dear Ned in this chapter. After this, the War of the Five King's will truly start, and the ship tags will slowly meet and come together :)

  
It had been four days since her escape from the Lannister's, and Arya Stark felt proud every time she thought about it.

  
Syrio Forel had taught her to be as quiet as a shadow, and she had been. It had been a relatively simple escape mission - she had regained consciousness just before the Lannister's (who'd captured her) were permitted to enter the city. She thought there would surely be a mounted guard riding beside the carriage door - to make sure she wouldn't escape. But there hadn't been. She assumed that because it was about the time they had reached King's Landing, the guards would have felt no need to no longer do their duty. _Stupid_. Arya had taken advantage of them being halted - she crept down on to the step and manoeuvred herself so that she was literally underneath the carriage, hanging horizontally as she hung on to the structural bars for dear life. Then, when they were safely in the city, she let herself drop down on to the cobblestones (but safely - else she would be dead from being squashed by the wheels), and darted away before any of the Lannister men could look back.

  
She'd ran that blindly through the city that she didn't even know where she was. She'd heard that Flea Bottom was the most grimiest and dirtiest place in the city, where the poorest of the poor called home, but she didn't think she'd turned up there - the people did look clean to an extent, and there were only a few beggars. She tried to think back to that time where she'd ran and ran and ran through the tunnels in the Red Keep and ended up somewhere in the city after overhearing the two fat men. She didn't think she was in the same place, but everywhere looked the same in King's Landing.

  
She walked through countless alleyways and streets, until she found a street where she thought she'd be slightly safe in. It was crowded, and she saw no lion sigils here. She could also smell the salt air from Blackwater Bay - which meant the docks weren't far away. _I could get a ship,_ she thought, _father had booked passage on a ship for me and Sansa before he'd met with the king's brothers! Would it still be here, waiting?_

  
She did take a walk to the docks that evening. As the sun was setting, she thought it even looked pretty. Arya must've seen hundreds of ships - two deckers, three deckers, monstrous large dromonds, galleys and whalers. Smaller ships such as carracks, cogs and galleass's with holds of loads of exotic delicacies. She was convinced she'd seen Ibbenese and Tyroshi traders too - the Ibbenese were small, broad and hairy whilst the Tyroshi were flamboyant and had dyed beards. She thought she even seen the royal fleet - anchored further out the port. She thought she glanced some Summer Islander's on the deck of some trading galley, but she couldn't be sure.

  
Arya slept somewhere different every night - in small hovels or quiet alleyways where she was unlikely to be harassed. She had no money - hells, she didn't even have anything with her except the clothes she had wore the day the Rykker's turned her over to Jaime Lannister, and Needle, tucked under her shirt. She never let herself get too dirty either - she always found a puddle where she gave herself a quick wash in. In terms of food.. Well, she'd manage to come by that easy enough, as an old crone passed one day and gave her a basket full of fresh food. "Eat up, sweet child," the crone had smiled at her. "No child should go hungry."  
She'd thanked the woman. "What news is there, from the castle?" Arya had asked, desperate for any news about her father. She'd seen him being attacked from when she'd walked the Dun Fort's battlements, just as the Rykker's guards had came to find her.. _Surely they didn't kill him,_ she thought, _he's the Hand! They must've taken him back alive, they must've!_  
Arya had never been more relieved when the crone replied to her. "The ol' Hand, the Stark, he's to confess his crimes to the King. Bend th' knee as well, 'm hearing. His son though.. the boy Robb is marchin' wi' his army as we speak! 'Tis terrible times, child, and war is as sure as winter at this stage."  
Arya couldn't help but ramble. "Lord Stark would never bend the knee to that stupid prince, he would never! And Robb Stark will defeat everyone who comes against him!"

  
The woman looked taken aback, but not offended at her comment. Then Arya mentally cringed, as she'd spoken bad about Joffrey. That sort of thing could get you killed.   
"Be that as it may, if Lord Stark 'as the wits the gods gave a goose, he'll bend t' knee, I reckon. Be'er to be alive and be able t'go back to his family than 'ave his head cut off." The woman said, her bonnet flapping a bit in the small breeze. "Do you have a home, sweet child? A mama or a papa?"  
 _My father's a prisoner, and my mother.. I don't know if she ever got back safely._ "They died." Was all she said, lying.   
"It ain't safe to be out on these streets wi'out a home, child. Turns out, I 'ave a house, and I 'ave grandchildren the same age as you, I thinks. Would ye like to stay wi' us?"

  
Arya wanted to say yes, so badly. She wanted to be able to sleep at night content, knowing that nobody could possibly harm her. Who knows, she could be attacked tonight..  
But how could she trust this woman? She'd given her food, yes, but that could have been a trap - what if she was going to lure Arya to her house and kill her?! She looked nothing but a harmless old lady, but you never knew just what people were capable of..  
"O-okay," she said. _If she even lays a hand on me, I'll chop it off with Needle._

  
The woman's house wasn't far - just a few streets up. The woman was telling her she'd been a seamstress for years before retiring a good few moons ago. "I worked wi' the same company of seamstresses that has supplied the royal family for six generations!"   
"Did you ever get to meet any?" Arya asked, intrigued.   
"One time I went wi' the head seamstress to the Red Keep t' present Queen Shaera and her lovely daughter, the princess Rhaella, wi' new autumn gowns! Best day of me life, that was. I was only twenty, and merely a commoner, yet they treated us as though we were equals 'nd rewarded us generously. Ye wouldn't catch queen Cersei ever being that kind." The woman explained, lowering her voice as she spoke the last sentence.

  
Arya tried to think who Queen Shaera was. _She must've been a Targaryen_ , she deduced, but she knew quite a few Targaryen's, and yet the name didn't sound Valyrian.. She knew that the Rhaella the woman was on about was the mother of prince Rhaegar, who had kidnapped Arya's aunt, Lyanna.

  
The woman's house on the Street of Flour was far from being a ruin, but it was modest at best. It was a house on the end of a street with an lane beside it. The door looked like it needed a coat of paint. When she got inside, it was warm and felt like a home. Two children appeared immediately, and their eyes comically widened when they seen Arya.  
"Walter, Wylis, this is.." The woman began, but remembered she hasn't even asked Arya for her name.  
"Cat." Arya came up with the name on the spot - she'd heard her father call her mother the name occasionally.  
"Cat will be staying wi' us a while, methinks. She was on the streets." The crone said, bending down slightly to talk to her grandchildren.  
"H-hello." The younger one, Wylis, stepped forward. The one called Walter was more straightforward and confident. They played outside the front of the house for a while. She'd been given a small box room to sleep in just off the landing - it as slightly damp and airy, but her bed was comfy enough. The woman, who she learned was called Sarra, was a very good cook - for she gave them a nice beef stew which they sat around the slightly crooked wooden dinner table to eat. It felt good to eat a hot meal again.

  
The next day, she'd been trying to teach Walter and Wylis the rules of rats-and-cats when she heard bells beginning to ring far across the city, and then a whole squad of people seemed to run towards them.  
"What's happening?" Walter asked no one in particular.  
"Why are they all running?" Wylis seemed agitated.  
"You!" Arya pointed to a random scrawny boy. "What's happened?"  
"The Hand is going t' confess!" The boy replied.  
Arya didn't even wait for her acquaintances to catch up with her. She had been cold and frigid, yet she urged herself to run forward. _Father_ , was all that was on her mind. They were going to force him to say King Joffrey was great and just and the true king, when none of that was true. As she was running - darting around people and following the pack, she then remembered - what if he demanded a trial by battle? Sansa had always thought the story of Prince Aemon the Dragonknight winning the trial by battle to defend his sister Queen Naerys's honour after she'd been accused of adultery and treason was a sweet tale, and always she'd a tear whenever it was told. What would happen if father demanded one? _Would he himself fight? If he did, would he be fighting Ser Jaime again?_ Arya hoped that wouldn't happen.

  
She'd been running for a while until she exited an alleyway and found herself on the plaza beneath the Great Sept of Baelor. Mass crowds had turned out, everyone jostling for a good view. Arya saw her chance and took it - she decided she wanted to get the best position possible for when they let her father go free, and so climbed her way up Baelor's marble statue. The first thing she saw from her vantage point was the horrible boy Joffrey, and some of his court on the top steps. He was waving to the crowd, thinking that they'd love him more. His mother, the bitch Cersei, was near him too, and so was the grand maester, some gold cloaks, and some others she didn't recognise or couldn't tell who they were.

  
It took a few minutes before her father was led up from his prison cell. There was a guard on either side of him, dragging him along. She noticed he had an evident limp, and they had dressed him up for the occasion - for he wore a grey doublet with the Stark direwolf sewn on the front, and it was accompanied with a grey cloak. Lord Eddard looked haggard and very thin, and the cast on his leg looked like it was desperately needing changed. The two Gold Cloaks on either side of him looked like they were having to support his weight greatly. _Surely they wouldn't dress him up all smart if they were going to kill him?!_

  
The High Septon was stood slightly elevated behind him. He wasn't exactly an impressive sight - but then again, Septa Mordane wasn't exactly the epitome of pious beauty either. He was very squat, had balding grey hair, and his belly had an impressive girth that was struggling to be kept in. The man even wore a crown of crystal that caught the sunlight and made him look like he was being adorned by rainbows whenever he so slightly moved. Arya recognised the Hound and the other Kingsguard beside him, all in white. The man they called Littlefinger was there too, she noticed, - he'd just made himself visible.

  
When the bell finally ended its tolling, the crowd went quiet. Her father began to speak, but his voice was as weak as old iron. People around her began to shout "What?" And "Speak up, man!" The commander of the Gold Cloaks even went up and prodded Ned Stark. "Don't you dare touch him!" Arya wanted to say, but she couldn't. Her heart was racing.

  
Her father raised his head and voice, so that it carried better across the plaza. "I am Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of the King, and I come before you all to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men."  
"No," Arya whimpered, slightly gutted. _He wasn't a traitor!_  
Ned Stark rose his voice higher again, as though he was addressing his lords and court back at Winterfell. "I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert. I swore to him on his deathbed that I would defend and protect his children, yet before his corpse was cold, I plotted to depose and imprison his wife and eldest son whilst taking hostage of his two other children to marry to my own, and seized the throne instead for his brother, Lord Stannis. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed and the Seven above bear witness to the truth of what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir apparent to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of the Seven themselves, the King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

  
Somebody at the front of the crowd threw a stone at her father, and she instinctively gasped and went to grab Needle's hilt. She could see a smear of blood across his face. _Please, you gods, old and new, don't let them hurt him. Let him go north, pardoned._  
The High Septon conferred with Joffrey and Cersei a moment before speaking up. "As we sin, so do we suffer," he preached in a deep voice. "This man has confessed his treason and crimes in the sight of the Seven and men, here on the holy steps of the Sept. The gods have in them justice, yet Baelor the Beloved taught us all that they also have mercy, - none more so than the Mother. What shall be done with this traitor, Your Grace?"

  
Joffrey stepped out from behind the Kingsguard, who had shielded him from any more of the stray rocks being tossed about. "My mother bids me let Lord Eddard take the black, and many have begged mercy for him." Joffrey paused as he took a look at his mother, who looked proud, as if she told him to say it. Arya thought the gods were hearing her prayer, until Joffrey smirked and turned to the crowd and said, "But she has the soft feeble heart of a woman. So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

  
The crowd of people around her roared, and Baelor's statue started to move as they rocked against it in waves. The queen looked shocked and was trying to persuade Joffrey to change his mind, as were some others, but Joffrey wasn't having any of it. A skeleton in iron mail stepped forward as though he was the Stranger himself. Ilyn Payne was the King's Justice, she recalled.  
Arya jumped down into the crowd and began to draw Needle from its sheath. Immediately a man slammed into her and she had to use all he strength not to go down tumbling. She tried to use the human current of the crowd to move forward, but what felt like miles was in fact only mere feet. Atop the pulpit, the gold cloaks unceremoniously flung Lord Eddard to the marble, his head and neck hanging over the edge of the top step. Faintly, she could hear someone screaming. Maybe it was herself, she couldn't tell.

  
She was barging through the crowd, and she heard a man shouting "Oi, you!". Someone grabbed her legs, and she slashed at them. There were far too many people, it was no use...  
Ser Ilyn unsheathed a large greatsword from its scabbard. As the light caught it, it seemed to ripple down the metal like nothing else. _That's Ice,_ she realised, going cold again. Tears were streaming down her face as well at this point.

  
Somebody then closed a hand around her upper left arm. Arya was pulled off her feet. She was sure she would have fell if the man wasn't holding her so tight, he was chewing sourleaf and he was dressed in all black. "Don't look, you hear me? _Do you hear me?_!" The man snarled.  
"Let me go!" She screamed.  
"Shut your mouth and close your eyes, _boy_!" He snapped again, as he moved against the press.

  
She thought she recognised this man... and then she remembered. She had been in her father's solar in the Tower of the Hand when this black brother had come to visit Lord Eddard.   
"Know me now, boy? Do you? A bright boy." He turned his head and spat. "You'll be coming with me, and you won't say a single word, you hear?"  
Numb and weak and defeated, she trailed along beside the man Yoren. She didn't even notice that he had Needle until he handed it back to her. She must've almost dropped it in the press.. "Hope you can use it, boy."  
"I'm a gi-" she started.

  
He shoved her against a wall behind a cart before drawing a knife. For a moment, Arya thought he was going to cut her throat. For a moment she welcomed and embraced the prospect.  _At least I'll be with father_. But the blade thrust forward too high for her throat. Instead, he cut her hair off in tufts and shanks as she kicked wildly with blurred vision. He was holding her as if she weighed no more than a doll. So strong, she could feel her scalp slightly burning, and her lips tasted salty from her tears.

 

 


	31. Catelyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Sorry for the absence - I've started a new accounting course and the lecturer keeps piling home exercises on us so it takes up a bit of time I could have spent writing. However, I've managed to write this for you, and it introduces a new POV in the shape of our wonderful Cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, as you can probably tell, I'm starting to speed this up slightly as I didn't want to write chapters of people just travelling about as that wouldn't be very interesting. Also, you've probably noticed I've not wrote chapters POV's for a few things such as Tyrion and Bronn leaving the Vale, Dany with the Dothraki etc as I didn't want to write those things if I didn't plan on changing them from canon - because what would be the point? Anyways, hope you enjoy this!

  
It was just before midday when they arrived at Moat Cailin. The infamous towered fortress was looking as dark and bleak as ever, but she knew there was nobody dark lurking within - for her son and his bannermen were within. The sigils were flying high on the towers. The Karstark sigil occupied one, the Bolton sigil another. But the highest tower had the direwolf of House Stark flying high above all.  
"This heap is Moat Cailin?" Her uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, said incredulous.  
She chuckled. "It doesn't look the part, but it always manages to defend the north from the south."

  
A banner-bearer met them halfway, very on edge as he obviously didn't recognise them and demanded to know who they were quite sharply. When they explained who they were, his face comically changed, although he did look very sorry for himself. He escorted them safely within the camps behind the walls.  
"Lord Robb is holding a war counsel right now, Ser, my lady, but I'm sure he will be pleasantly surprised by your appearance." The banner-bearer said. "We did not know you were coming."  
"Circumstances change, unfortunately." Catelyn said, feeling sad about Ned all over again.  
"I did not know him well, my lady, but your husband was a great man. We can only avenge him now." The man replied, looking sympathetic. Ser Brynden was gruff in his saddle.

  
Her heart raced as she sighted the large pavilion where surely the counsel was being held - it was being guarded by Tallhart men on all sides. _Robb, my son_ , she thought, _we meet again._  
She dismounted her horse as gracefully as she could, but as soon as some grooms moved forward to take their horses away she broke into a fast walk. Ser Brynden was behind her, trying to tell her to slow down, but her son as merely feet away from her, and she wanted to see if he'd changed much from boy to man.

  
The guards somehow recognised her, for they greeted her and stood aside a bit to let her see inside the tent. You could always hear Greatjon Umber bellowing a mile away, and to be true, there he stood, a head above the rest. Lord Karstark and Tallhart and Glover, all there too. Even Theon was there.   
Robb stood at the head of the table they were gathered around, in Stark armour with a sword at his side. Grey Wind was there too, lying down, but the beast raised his head at her presence.  
The chatter eventually died down as they began to notice her.

  
Robb noticed her after a few moments.  
"Mother!" He said, in relief, stepping forward to the front of the tent as if he couldn't quite believe it. She could hear the lords behind him muttering greetings, and she had just noticed Maege Mormont was there too, looking tiny in between the Greatjon and Galbart Glover.  
"Lady Catelyn," Greatjon said, "you bring us solace in these troubled times." Many people 'aye'd in agreement.  
"I did not think to be here." She said, not unkindly. "The boy Joffrey has brought us all a desire for blood."   
Robb's fingers went into a fist, but he kept his cool. There were grown men behind him, many of whom had lost their own father's years before, it would not be proper for their liege - already younger and slightly greener than the lot of them - to break down in tears.

  
It was then that Ser Brynden decided to show face, having previously been stood to the side of the tent. The northern lords seemed to light up at the sight of him, and Robb dismissed them. Theon seemed to be shoved forward by the Greatjon, who called him Greyjoy.  
When they were alone in the tent, Robb flung himself into her arms practically. He didn't cry, not now. _Mayhaps he's already shed all his grief._

  
"They killed him, mother, he's gone." Was all Robb said.  
"They did. Do you recall the Dance of the Dragons?" She asked.  
He looked at her incredulously. "Pardon?"  
"Do you recall the Dance of the Dragons?" She related patiently, but didn't let him answer. "When the Black's received news about the death of Lucerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra's son, Daemon the Rogue Prince famously said 'an eye for an eye, a son for a son. Lucerys shall be avenged'."  
Robb was thinking, clearly. "In our case, it'll be a father for a father."  
She nodded, proud. "Should you ever come across Lord Tywin, kill him."  
His eyebrows furrowed. "But the Kingslayer is Joffrey's true father? Lord Tywin is his grandfather."  
"I have thought about this," she said. "Your sister may be being held hostage, despite them saying she's missing. If we capture Ser Jaime instead of slaying him, he can be our bargaining chip to get Arya back."  
"Mother, have you forgotten it was Ser Jaime who fought my father in the streets of Duskendale and captured him?" He raised his voice slightly. "He was the one to injure him."  
"Be that as it may, it was Joffrey who ordered his death." She argued. "Who do you think Cersei would rather have back, Robb? Her father or the father of her children?"  
He paused, thinking. "Her twin." He admitted meekly.  
"There we have it." She replied. "Inform your bannermen about this at your next meeting."  
"I will," he swore.   
she took the time to study him, as the sun was hitting his face in a way that it illuminated his features. _He's definitely grown,_ she thought, _he's grown taller than me._

  
"Have you had any word from your betrothed yet?" Catelyn asked him.   
He almost lit up. "She's on her way, mother. I received correspondence before I left Winterfell - Baelor Hightower wrote that she was on a ship out of Oldtown headed for Seagard."  
 _He sounds like a giddy boy,_ she thought, smiling at her son's happiness. He sounded like he was ten again. "Seagard is not far. Are you planning to march your men there to meet her?"  
"Well, I was thinking we should meet her at Riverrun. No doubt we'll have to meet up with the riverlords at some point, so where better than to meet them at their overlords castle?"  
"It's a good plan," she admitted. "Though it does have faults - in the shape of House Frey."  
He realised then. "Oh. I forgot.."  
"Did my two wards ever reach Winterfell?" She asked.  
"Walder and Walder? Yes, they did. Bran doesn't seem to like them." He answered. "How did you manage to negotiate with Lord Frey?"  
"It was him who sent the raven, not I. You may not know how he is, but I do. He's not afraid to be harsh and criticise. We will have to enjoy his hospitality at the Twins if you want four thousand Frey men to join us." She explained.

  
Her son looked confused. "But.. Aren't they already joining us? Walder and Walder are wards.."  
"That they are. But the Frey alliance is not sealed yet. Just because some young boys are being warded with us doesn't mean that's all Lord Walder wants. No, he inevitably wants a marriage alliance, I think." Catelyn said,  
"But who can we offer him? Would he be wanting to marry off a son or a daughter, a grandson or granddaughter?" Robb asked.  
"We will cross that bridge when we come to it." Was all Cat said on the matter. She took time to study Robb. "You look like Edmure with your whiskers."  
Robb was clearly glad he was starting to be a man. There were only a few hairs there, but a beard was in the works. "Do I?"  
Grey Wind playfully nipped her fingers before sitting down beside Robb. "You do. Though you mostly look like Ned." Her heart fell again. Her son's throat bobbed.

  
He also clearly wanted to change the subject. "I don't know if you knew.. I left Lyanna in charge of Winterfell and the north."  
That did surprise her. She felt a slight surge of happiness - her daughter was ruling. Even though she was basically a castellan, it warmed Catelyn that a woman was in charge of half of Westeros. It almost made her forget about Ned for a second. "I'm sure she'll do a fine job. Lyanna has always wanted to prove herself."  
"She will. That's why I named her." Robb replied, smiling.   
A burning desire to avenge her husband came back to her. "I'm weary from the journey, but before we head to the castle I need to know.. What do you plan to do?"  
The smile left Robb's face, and he furrowed his eyebrows. "W-well.."  
"You mean to tell me, all these war counsels, you haven't formulated a long-term plan?" She said incredulously.   
"No! It's not that, it's just, all the lords either agree or disagree on what's to be done. Greatjon Umber is of the idea that we should use the element of surprise on both Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime. The Glovers, Karstark's and Tallhart's feel we'd be more at an advantage if we ride straight for Riverrun to join up with your brother. Though by the time we reach Riverrun.. I'm not certain.."  
"Then _be certain_ ," Catelyn told her boy, "or go home with your tail between your legs. Robb, you must never let yourself look uncertain in front of your older bannermen. The first Aenys was weak, the first Viserys was a pushover, and the first Aerys was a bad ruler overall, which led their bannermen to snigger behind their cups whilst pretending to be loyal. If you don't assert your authority, then men like Rickard Karstark and Roose Bolton who you call your friends will take their men and march them home."

  
Robb looked startled and wide-eyed, yet he took her words in. "I don't want to be remembered as Robb the Terrible."  
"Then I'll ask you again - what is your plan?" She asked firmly.  
Robb unrolled the map across the table and placed things on each of the four corners to hold it down. Then he got straight to business. "Both arguments have their validity, but.. look here, if we try to swing around Lord Tywin's host to get to Riverrun, we go in there blind, for we do not know Ser Jaime's exact movements. We run the risk of being completely taken out in the rear with nowhere to escape. By all reports, they currently have more men than we do, and especially more horses. Heavy horse. Greatjon Umber argues that that won't matter when we catch him unawares with their breeches down by their ankles, but I feel that a war veteran like Tywin Lannister would never fall into such predictable traps such as surprises."  
Catelyn felt proud. _It's as if Ned is talking_... "Good. What else?"  
"Moat Cailin must be left with a garrison, so that's another task. Father used to say a hundred men could defend Moat Cailin from an army of a hundred thousand, so in that case I'll leave about two hundred here, mostly archers, to protect our land. If the Lannister's do get the upper hand, they'll invade our country. Well, that'll be virtually impossible if Howland Reed and his crannogmen punch them all the way back down the Green Fork with poisoned arrows sticking out their arses." Robb laughed, and Cat allowed herself a smirk.

"Once we cross the border into the riverlands, I'll split the army in two. My footmen can continue down the road, whilst the horse deals with crossing the Twins. Once Lord Tywin gets the word, his host will hurry north, whilst our riders rush ahead to get uncle Edmure's host. If we do that, there's a river between Ser Jaime and his father, meaning they can't join up. We crush him there. Lord Frey will have to join us to prevent Ser Jaime from getting across the Green Fork."  
"He will most likely join us, unless he fancies himself a traitor. But do not trust him. My father called him the Late Lord Frey for a reason." Catelyn warned.  
"I won't. More wards might have to be taken, to ensure his good behaviour." Robb reasoned.

  
"That's the northerners and river landers covered. What do you plan to do with our friends in the Reach, and Dorne?" Catelyn tested him further.  
Robb clearly hadn't planned that far. "Did you hear? Renly is calling himself King, despite the plans made with Stannis and father. The Iron Throne.. Mother, that chair can't sit two kings.. It will surely mean that Stannis and Renly will be at war with each other!"  
She thought people were japing when she heard the same gossip in White Harbour. "Gods.. What is going through that boys head?! To call himself King whilst his brother still lives?" Catelyn didn't like the sound of it at all.   
"Who would we join? We can hardly pledge allegiance to both." Robb fretted.  
"We shan't concern ourselves with the Baratheon brothers just now," Catelyn decided, "their eyes will be on King's Landing, not anywhere else. Let them fight for that iron chair like two dogs over a bone - we must focus on the Lannister's for now."  
Robb clearly did want to talk about the Baratheon's, but dropped it when she spoke. "Speaking of Baratheon's - Shireen arrived safely about two months ago. Rickon has taken to her already. Myrcella and Tommen will arrive in time for the harvest feast. I hope Myrcella turns Bran's head away from Valaena Velaryon." Robb sniggered at the end.  
"Valaena Velaryon?" Catelyn raised an eyebrow.  
"Princess Shireen's companion. She's a sweet girl - almost silver hair, blue doe eyes-"  
"-Robb." Catelyn cut him off, wanting to get back to war.   
"Right, right." He paused. "In terms of the reachmen - Mace Tyrell is prepared to engage his men, he wrote me a week past. He says that if the Lannister's even try and march to King's Landing via the rose or ocean road, then they'll surround them on all sides. We've also entertained the idea of the reachmen invading the westerlands whilst the Lannister's are away. Mother, I honestly think they could take Casterly Rock for us."

  
 _Nobody has ever succeeded,_ she thought. "Robb... That particular matter needs further discussion. The reachmen need to start marching north, to aid us. That is their purpose. Their numbers are close to fifty thousand - if they joined up with us, then the north, riverlands and reach combined would crush the Lannister's in a single battle. We need to crush the westermen, and quickly."   
"I also have a plan for the east coast." Robb said, almost hesitantly.  
"Do tell." She encouraged.  
"There's been no word if your sister will add the valemen to our numbers. But we don't really need them just now. When I marry Margaery Tyrell, I will have the Redwyne fleet at my command. I plan to use them. I think we could use their ships to siege King's Landing - starve Joffrey and his mother. When the citizens of King's Landing go hungry.. Well, there's been history of rioting smallfolk. During the Dance, thousands of them managed to storm the dragonpit and slay a few chained up dragons because a preacher told them to. Would thousands be able to storm the Red Keep if they seen their saviours rolling into the harbour?" He paused, finally smiling, as if he'd just orchestrated the biggest conspiracy in the realm. "Let them loose at the monsters responsible for their hunger."

  
Something about the way Robb said that made Catelyn's spine shiver. She could have swore Grey Wind was grumbling in approval. "And where's the Dornish in all of this? We secured them to our side with Sansa - I imagine we should let them have vengeance against the Lannister's as well." She asked.  
"I want that as well. It will keep them happy and loyal to us even more. Mayhaps we should invite them to Ser Gregor's decapitation?" He paused. "Or.. They could siege King's Landing from the land, and the Redwyne fleet by the sea.. Is it a good plan, mother?" He was hungry for her praise and approval.  
"I do like it," she admitted, "but will your lords and ladies like it?"  
His smile faltered a bit. "Ah, that's another problem. But if they have their own suggestions, they are welcome to mention them. I think it could work. We can all take shares and revel in the glory of winning. I also have a plan for the crownlander houses as well, but I'll keep it strictly to myself for now until I think on it more. Mayhaps a few of the houses in that region would switch sides to us.."

  
She studied her son. He was as lusty for vengeance as she was, as the Dornish were, and practically everyone who'd been wronged by the Lannister's. _We will defeat them. I know it. We will._

He rolled the map back up, happy with his plans. "I'll hold a counsel tomorrow to discuss what we just went through, and assemble an escort to take you home to Winterfell. You could help Lya rule, and I'm sure Bran and Rickon are dying to see you."

  
Catelyn had been all vengeance for the past few minutes, but now all she felt was the grief she thought she'd shed days past. "I do not wish to go to Winterfell." She forced herself to say, looking at her and Ned's brave boy as her vision blurred. "Your grandfather doesn't have long left in this world. My brother is surrounded. I must stay with you and go to them."  
Robb's Tully blue eyes were wide with concern. Then he nodded. "Very well. But are you sure? The fighting-"  
"-I will be with you, and that is final." She said, a bit brusquely.

  
They walked back to Moat Cailin then. Her makeshift bedchamber was a floor above Robb's, and she got a nice view of the south from her window. It was a bit airy and damp, but it would do. Many of the army were camped outside the castle, so by midnight she could still hear chatting and hooting and singing and cheering below from the men at their tents and campfires. Before she finally went to sleep, she grieved and longed for Ned again. She would never have him beside her again. She thought she'd never feel as much pain as this. _If this is the price of love, I no longer want it with another man._ A few tears fell, but yet the pain subsidised into something else - something akin to vengeance and blood.

 


End file.
